


One Truth Less – A Trick AO3 Fandom Collab

by catastrophage, Inkaley, MeteoraWrites, nicofox, problematiquefave



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Collaboration, Dell Diamond stadium, Farmer!Nick, Fix-It, Friends to Enemies, Friendship, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Love, M/M, Romance, S4 timeline, Secrets, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-06-17 08:47:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15457626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrophage/pseuds/catastrophage, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkaley/pseuds/Inkaley, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeteoraWrites/pseuds/MeteoraWrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicofox/pseuds/nicofox, https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematiquefave/pseuds/problematiquefave
Summary: “Why would Daniel wanna kill Troy?”Madison demands the truth and the truth is what she gets.“Because he’s hell-bent on finding someone to blame for Ofelia’s death, and he's made up his mind that person is Troy," Nick replies with confidence. "He locked me up and threatened to torture me – and twisted my every word.”One truth less – and the events at the dam might have taken quite a different turn. With Troy still alive, how would life at the Diamond be like? How would his survival have affected the dynamics within the group? And most importantly: What would the future have in store for him and Nick?Are you curious to find out? Then come and join us on a collaborative journey!





	1. Prologue / Collab Notes

**Author's Note:**

> With FTWD still on mid-season break and no new episodes for us to roll our eyes over and shake our heads about, why don’t we enjoy the summer and vacation time with a brand-new Trick fic, making us forget about the hurtful twists the show took in canon?
> 
> Since there’re so many amazing and gifted authors in this incredible fandom, isn’t it high time we join forces and work together on a common story, building on each other’s creativity and benefitting from one another’s inspiration!  
>    
>  **With the sign-up phase now closed, I'm happy to announce we’ve come up with quite the prestigious line-up of Trick authors to participate in this collab:**
> 
> Chapter 1 – **Exposition** : Inkaley (“[The Grand Cause](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12369687/chapters/28136589)”, “[Dating Troy Otto](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14128884/chapters/32558832)”)  
> Chapter 2 – **Conflict** : catastrophage (“[Miracles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13271157)”, “[A Diary of Sorts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828734)”)  
> Chapter 3 – **Resolution** : nicofox (“[Focal Point](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911622)”, “[On Every Road](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14284146)”)  
> Chapter 4 – **Consummation** : problematiquefave (“[All This and More](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13953174)”, “[To Serve in Heaven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741382)”)  
> Chapter 5 – **Ending** : MeteoraAngel (“[How's It Gonna Be?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12425475/chapters/28278042)”, “[An Evolution Overdue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677958/chapters/28903734)”)
> 
> The key information in a nutshell:
> 
> \- Each author contributes one chapter in a pre-defined order.  
> \- Chapter’s minimum length is 1,500 words (~ 2.5 Word pages), so no one should be overloaded.  
> \- Once it’s your turn, you have two to three weeks to finish and post your chapter.  
> \- Please check below for detailed information on rules & procedure.

**Prologue**

 

The turnips mean life.

That’s why he tends to them. Whenever he holds one of them in his hands, a healthy, nutritious fruit, he feels the reassurance – the pleasant certainty his loved ones are gonna be alright. They’re gonna have a future.

Other times, however, he comes across a bunch of rotten turnips, ash-gray and moldy – and a darker image flashes through his mind.

The rotten ones remind him of the dam. They also remind him of the ranch. Of La Colonia. Of the Abigail. Of L.A. Of _home_.

You hold those turnips in your hands and you think they promise you life. Then you take a closer look at them and notice they’re rotten. And before you even realize it, they crumble to dust in your hands.

It pains him every time he comes across a rotten one. He doesn’t want to be reminded of those dark, insecure times. He wants to make this work so badly, the place they now call home. He needs to.

Cause the one thing he couldn’t bear witnessing is having history repeat itself once more: Seeing their life at the Diamond crumble like it did at the dam, the ranch, La Colonia, the Abigail. Their home.

_The dam._

Sometimes, when he’s busy tending to the turnips, alone in the glaring midday sun, his mind wanders to strange places. Dark places.

And time and again, the realization makes him shudder, thinking how close a call it was, the fact that they all made it here together, how easily history would have taken quite a different turn, if just a tiny breath, a tiny word had been different.

How grateful they should be it didn’t. How important it is they make this work. How important it is to tend to the turnips.

 

_“Why would Daniel wanna kill Troy?”_

_“I...” He shakes his head, unable to come up with a reply that would keep her from losing it. It takes all the self-control he can muster not to shoot Troy a look at this very moment. One look could give him away._

_His mother’s eyes on him, questioning, suspicious, demanding. He fears she’s seeing right through him – and it gives him the chills._

_No, Nick! Pull yourself together! The truth is what she demands – so give it to her! Tell her the glorious truth about Daniel Salazar._

_Troy is just about to open his mouth to give the explanation she asked for, the one that has been dangling over them like a glistening knife, like the shiny hammer in Madison’s hands that could in the blink of an eye crush their whole world to dust._

_And right at that moment, just a breath before Troy can say the words, Nick cuts him off._

_“Because he’s lost it! He lured me downstairs, then locked me up in one of the rooms and threatened to torture me,” he states, voice dark and – to his surprise – a hundred times steadier than he had expected._

_Madison’s eyes widen in shock. Her attention shifts away from Troy, back to her son. “He…_ what _?!”_

 _It_ is _the truth, he_ is _being honest with her, and that clear conscience gives him confidence. Instead of putting the focus on Troy as the culprit, he’ll put the focus on_ himself _as the victim._

 _“He’s hell-bent on finding someone to blame for Ofelia’s death,” he goes on bitterly, still not meeting Troy’s eyes, whose perplexed expression is obvious even from the corner of his eyes. “He’s made up his mind about what he_ thinks _has happened. For whatever reason, he’s convinced Troy actively led the horde to the ranch, and no matter how hard I insisted on the truth, he twisted my every word.”_

 _Now, finally, he_ does _dare to shoot Troy a look, and it’s a well-placed one, intended to make his words more casual, more believable. “Sorry, man. I fought for you, but he wouldn’t even listen.”_

_“It’s okay,” Troy replies automatically, words stiff like a robot’s._

_“Did he hurt you?” Madison wants to know, her face suddenly pale learning about all those things that have been going on behind her back._

_“No, he let me go,” Nick points out immediately. “All he did was ask his questions – just to give the answers himself.” Now turning to both of them. “But he’ll be coming for you, Troy, no doubt about that. He’ll be coming for_ us _.”_

_“Yeah, he will try,” Madison spits out the words full of disdain, clutching the hammer in her hands even tighter._

_But Nick can’t take any risks. “We need to get away, Mom,” he points out, imploring. “We’ve sacrificed so much to live. We can’t afford to die.”_

 

_We’ve sacrificed so much to live. We can’t afford to die._

The thought resounds in his head for a while as he catches himself staring at the turnip in his hands. It’s s healthy one.

He blinks, suddenly back in the present, back in reality. Back in the Diamond.

Better make this work. Better get back to work. Picking up the rake again, he turns his attention back to the field, slowly but diligently breaking up the soil, like he’s done so many times.

Then, all of a sudden, he hears footsteps.

“Working hard again?” A familiar voice asks next to him. “Need a hand, Nicky?”

 

* * *

 

 

_ **[Notes on the collab]** _

 

One truth less – and the events at the dam might have taken quite a different turn.

With Troy still alive, how would life at the Diamond be like? What would be different, what would be similar to S4? How would his surviving have changed the dynamics within the group? How would he fit in with the survivors at the stadium?

And most importantly – what would the future have in store for him and Nick?

 

**The rules of this collab are simple:**

We’re gonna create one sequential fic consisting of five parts (= chapters). Each chapter will be written by one author. Once the chapter is finished and posted, the next person in line will start working on their chapter.

The structure will be the following:

  * Chapter 1 – Exposition: **You set the basis for the romance**. What’s Troy’s and Nick’s life like at the Diamond? What’s their relationship been like during the time skip, after escaping from the dam? Are they on friendly terms or is there some kind of tension between them? You plant the first seeds for the blossoming romance. Maybe they have a significant moment, share a few glances or even a first accidental kiss?
  * Chapter 2 – Conflict: **You decide on the main conflict of the fic**. As the first hints of romance were giving hope to everyone, there’s a conflict arising that overshadows the romance or puts their newfound feelings to the test. Maybe you decide to use elements of S4 canon to fuel the conflict or come up with something entirely new. The conflict could be rooted in Nick and Troy’s relationship or come from the outside, an external threat like an (established or new) villain or a romance rival entering the stage.
  * Chapter 3 – Resolution: **You take care of the actual get-together**. You’re the one helping our heroes to overcome the conflict of chapter 2, bringing them together in the process. Maybe Nick and Troy have to fight for their lives facing their enemy, realizing how much the other one actually means to them? Maybe one of them gets hurt? Or maybe they have an emotional confrontation with each other that ends in them confessing their feelings?
  * Chapter 4 – Consummation: **You get to write the love scene**. Now that Nick and Troy are aware of their love and the threat has been eliminated, they give in to those feelings and share some intimate moments. You’re free to choose whatever love scene you feel fitting, from an emotional night of intimacy in each other’s arms to a passionate love scene, it’s totally up to you (please be aware that the scene should be suited for the largest part of the audience, so let’s not go above M-rated)
  * Chapter 5 – Ending: **You get to decide on their future**. Will they be happily ever after? Or are they doomed to be star crossed lovers once again? It’s up to you! How will their love / night together change their lives from now on? What does the future have in store for them? Can you find a satisfying closure to our little journey?



**Sign-ups for this collaboration have been closed. Please check above for the complete line-up of paticipating authors.  
**

 

A few notes on writing the chapters:

  * **Timeframe:** I know everyone is really busy IRL, so we won’t settle on fixed deadlines for the individual chapters. You should try to finish your chapter within two to three weeks once the chapter before yours is posted. If you realize any issues with that, please let me know as early as possible.
  * **Length:** Chapters shouldn’t be too long, since we don’t wanna overload anyone. The structure is quite granular anyway and we wanna make sure everyone can finish their contribution in time. It’s not a fixed specification, but let’s try for chapters around 2,000 – 2,500 words. 1,500 words are the minimum, but in case you need more space to flesh out your ideas, you’re of course free to write more. Just make sure you don’t touch the territory of the person that follows you (like an over-excited “get together” chapter 3 writer including a full love scene, which would be the privilege of the author of chapter 4).
  * **Content:** You’re absolutely free to work in your own ideas and unleash your creativity. Please be thoughtful of the other authors however and try to do justice to the mood, relationships and universe the other authors before you have established. Follow the flow of the story, don’t force the river to go your way. So please don’t try to bend the story too badly or make anything already established undone just to fit in a specific idea. I’m sure there are a lot of ways to have the existent setting and relationships benefit from your ideas and creativity!
  * **Organizational:** All contributing authors will be added as co-authors to this fic – so you yourself can post your chapter and take care of tags as soon as it’s your turn and you’re ready. That way, the fic won’t “belong” just to the person posting it, but to all of us equally, as it should be!
  * **Experience:** Since this is a first time try, only authors can take part who have written and published fanfics before – so I can get an idea of your writing. Thanks for your understanding!



 

If you have any questions, just let me know anytime :)

And most of all: Thank you so much in advance to everyone taking part! I’m already so excited and can’t wait to see what amazing story we’ll end up with once the collab is done :))


	2. A Reason to Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we go with the exposition to our little collab :)  
> I hope this version of how things would have evolved differently if Troy hadn't died at the dam makes sense and gives my fellow authors something to work with :)  
> Hope you'll enjoy the first chapter!

_“I need a reason to fight.”_

_A blurred face in the camera, dark shelves with labeled tapes in the background._

_“You don’t have one?” A voice from the off. Curious._

_“I don’t know. I may have had one. But now… No idea. It’s just… I’ve lost so much.”_

_“Your home, the ranch, the dam…?” the voice suggests._

_“Faith,” comes the reply, sharp eyes now meeting the camera. “I used to believe that doing the right thing meant good things would come from it. But I was wrong.”_

_“How so?”_

_“Well, I…” The person starts. “At the ranch, I…” Face growing more blurry again. “I killed a man to protect the ones I love… but… all I achieved was the exact opposite. I ended up hurting a friend and basically turned him into a ticking time bomb that – once it went off – caused a horrible tragedy. And everyone was killed after all.” A reluctant shake of the head. A frown. “If you trace the steps back, that huge catastrophe happened because of me. Because I worked up the courage to help, to act – for once in my life! I tried to be someone I’m not: A fighter. And see where it got me.”_

_A few moments of silence, then the voice behind the camera asks: “Where_ did _it get you?”_

_The man looks away. “A place of huge guilt, I guess, where even the road ahead is dark and rocky. I’m…” His voice sounds exhausted and raspy. “I’m torn between the things I believe on the inside and the things I do on the outside. I wanna be good, I wanna be honest, but I keep lying to the people I care about. In order to protect other people I care about…” He lets out an exhausted sigh. “Jesus, I’m just so sick of it. All of it.”_

_“I get it,” the voice agrees softly, “keeping a painful secret from the ones you love sucks. But… you’re doing it for the right reasons.”_

_He snorts sarcastically. “_ Now _I’m worried.”_

_“To protect them,” the voice clarifies, unfazed. “At least you still got them with you, the people you care about. Your family. Aren’t they a reason to fight?”_

_“I only got a part of my family with me,” the man mumbles. “And_ they _are actually the strong ones. The fighters. They don’t need me to protect them.”_

_“That’s what you wanna believe, because you’re scared that by taking action again you’ll just end up risking being responsible for even more tragedies,” the voice figures out. “Isn’t that right?”_

_“So what?” The man’s eyes lock back to the camera. “It’s not like it matters. We’ve always tried doing the right thing, but always ended up losing everything anyway. That’s never gonna change. We can’t undo the apocalypse, nor can we stop it.” His voice sounds bitter. “One day, we’re all gonna turn into walking dead anyway.”_

_A rattling sound interrupts the conversation and something in the background catches the man’s attention._

_Another woman’s voice is heard: “Oh, sorry! Thought you were already done.”_

_“We are,” the man replies, and all of a sudden seems like an entirely different person. An energetic optimist. “I was just in the middle of telling Althea how we’re definitely gonna make it.” Turning his eyes back to the camera. An overexaggerated smile flashes over his face, as he gives the camera a thumbs-up. “Cause that’s who we are: A bunch of fighters!”_

 

**The Diamond – through Nick’s eyes**

 

He may not have a reason to be a fighter – but to be a farmer, you don’t need a reason.

That’s why today, here at the Diamond, Nick’s not outside with the stadium militia hunting for supplies, but working on the fields instead, planting lettuce and tomatoes, harvesting potatoes and tending to the turnips. And that’s exactly where he wants to be. They’ve found a new home here, and he’s made his choise. This time, he won’t meddle. He won’t ever push for the center of the stage ever again. He won’t screw things up for everyone ever again. And it was that resolve that in time finally managed to take that huge load off him, the one that had clouded his days ever since they’d escaped from the dam.

It’d just been his mom, Troy and him in the beginning, venturing the wilderness on their own, running. Getting away as far from Daniel Salazar and the Proctors as they possibly could. They’d decided to head for the cabin Jake had told Alicia about, hoping to find his sister there. But when they arrived, there were no traces of anyone having paid the place a visit recently. They decided to stay there for a while anyway, to get back their strength and simply be around, in case Alicia’d show up after all.

It was a dark time for Nick, really. They were safe for now, yeah, but that peace also meant a lot of time to brood - and this time, he didn't have any convenient brain stem drugs at hand to numb the oppressive guilt. God, the things they’ve lost… Their future at the ranch, all those innocent lives there, Coop, Jake, Ofelia. And no matter how you looked at it, Nick knew that at the very core of his heart, he was also responsible. All those dead people at the ranch – they were also on him. He had defended Troy, supported him even, out of sheer bad conscience for murdering his father. And by that, he’s ended up becoming one of the gears in the machinery that ended in Troy leading the horde to the ranch. And getting all those people killed, making his sister go through the traumatizing events at the pantry, and destroying any chances of happiness and security the ranch could have provided them.

And yet. He had covered for Troy again. Because. The only reason this tragedy’d ever occurred in the first place had been because he’d wanted to save Troy. So if Troy didn’t get better and never got his chance at redemption, he’d have allowed for all those horrible things to happen in vain. If the truth came out, he’d have to admit his own, infinite guilt. And so, in the many nights they sat around the campfire, staring at the burning logs in silence, Troy’s and his eyes would sometimes meet through the flames, a grim look, turning into a silent oath: _This secret, we’re taking to the grave._

And another thing he swore to himself: _I’ll never get myself caught up in a situation like that ever again. I’ll never get tangled up in lies and soul-shattering moral dilemmas ever again. I’m not a fighter anymore. It’s not like there’s anything left to fight for anyway._

After a few weeks, they slowly but surely started to run low on Jake’s supplies and the area surrounding the cabin didn’t provide much opportunity to hunt or fish. They were forced to move on, away from the ones hunting them, away from the scorched earth they’d left behind. They scribbled a quick note for Alicia, in case she’d ever find it after all. _Heading east, Texas probably. Be safe and be strong. We’re praying we’ll find each other again._

And indeed, they made it to Texas, where one day by accident (literally) they ran into Althea, a young journalist documenting the End of the World. In exchange for their stories she shared her supplies with them and even offered them a ride in their search for a new home, relying on her excellent knowledge of the area. At a seemingly abandoned motel, they ran into Douglas and his wife Vivian, who eventually told them about the Diamond and their plan to start a new life there, if only they could somehow clear it of all the infected roaming the place.

That marked the birth of the Dell Diamond stadium community, their home. Cause no matter how you looked at it, the place seemed to fulfill everyone’s wishes: All Madison wanted was a bunch of strong walls to keep her family safe. Troy was thrilled at the prospect of being one of the founding fathers of a community of his own. And all Nick wanted was to lay down his gun.

Ever since those days, the headcount of their community has constantly increased: Whenever they ran into good and honest people, they would invite them to join. They’d naturally also offered Althea to stay, the journalist however had preferred to continue her quest for stories. From time to time, though, she’d drop by still, stocking up on supplies or introducing them to new people who might fit in at the Diamond.

For Nick, the stadium has become his long-desired chance at redemption, a way to start over. And make good on his resolve to lay low, play the second fiddle. Not to meddle. Tending to the crops allowed him exactly that. More than that, actually. As a farmer, he was contributing, providing for his people – without any risk of the next life or death decision waiting round the corner. On the fields, he was safe. On the fields, he was at peace.

Of course, sometimes the loss of his friend Victor still weighed on him. And, if he was being honest, he also missed Luciana, no matter how short their romance had been in the end. But he grew to like the people here at the Diamond, too, and not everyone in his life had been lost. His mother, although often occupied with her responsibilities as the community’s leader, had slowly reverted back into the caring person he used to love, cherish and still needed so much, now, that the constant pressure to survive wasn’t bringing her to her limits anymore. And spending time together on ordinary things like putting up a lamp in one of the former luxury boxes that now served as their homes, helped them both to heal the scars of the past.

And of course there was Troy, who practically flourished in his new surroundings. His extensive knowledge of farming had helped them a great deal in the beginning, even though it didn’t take long until the man exchanged his plowshare for the sword again, founding yet another militia to keep the stadium safe from any threats and head out to gather supplies, like he’d used to do at the ranch. At the stadium, he seemed to be right back in his element, and seeing that gave Nick hope. Maybe this meant Troy was getting his second chance. Maybe it meant he could have his as well.

So with the dark clouds covering both their souls slowly but surely dissolving and the burden of their secret seeming farther and farther away, their friendship took a turn for the better, eventually feeling less forced, less strained, but more natural and enjoyable. They didn’t see each other much during the day, so they’d often sit together somewhere on the many seats of the large stadium after dinner, drinking coffee and sharing stories of their days, discussing new ideas or simply gazing over their little world, enjoying the warm evening breeze and each other’s company. And hell, Nick liked content, well-adjusted Troy.

So all in all, he doesn’t miss a thing working on the fields like this, and today’s no different. After their potato harvest yesterday, their current top priority is to break up the soil again to get it ready for sewing the next batch of seeds. Some of the kids were helping him a bit earlier, but as the sun rose to its zenith, shining down at the stadium relentlessly, he ended up alone, the red baseball cap on his head, silently working by himself in the oppressive midday heat.

So when all of a sudden there’s a voice behind him, he can’t help wincing.

 “Working hard again?” someone says. “Need a hand, Nicky?”

 

***

 

When Nick turns around, Troy has already grabbed another rake, starting to break up the soil next to him.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Nick tells him almost automatically.

“I want to,” Troy counters, shooting him a look over his shoulder.

Nick holds his eyes for a while, happy on the one hand, naturally, that Troy insisted. On the other hand knowing his friend is up to something. So he gives him a sarcastic snort. “I know you don’t. You’d rather be out there, hunting for supplies and smashing dead people’s heads.”

Troy chuckles for a moment, but otherwise doesn’t comment. Instead, he turns his attention back to the soil, continuing his work with diligent movements. “Why don’t you join us, Nick?” he starts again without looking at his friend. “We could use your help out there.”

“The crops could use my help as well,” Nick counters easily. He’d expected Troy to start that again. It always comes down to this whenever the other man offers to help him on the fields.

“Others can take care of them.”

“Others can help you on the supply runs.”

Troy pauses in his work, turning to Nick. “What if I want _you_?”

Nick eventually breaks the eye contact and goes on with his work, quietly smiling to himself. “First you didn’t want me in the militia. Now you’re practically begging me to join on a daily basis.”

“You’re strong,” Troy points out with a shrug. “You’re a fighter. I need good men like you.”

“I’m not a fighter,” Nick snorts. “Not anymore. A fighter needs a reason. And I don’t have one.”

Troy raises an eyebrow. “Protecting your loved ones? Isn’t that a reason?”

“My loved ones are all well capable of protecting themselves,” Nick shrugs, absentmindedly trying to crush an especially hard piece of soil with the head of the rake. “Damn those annoying dry lumps…”

Troy doesn’t take his eyes off him. “You’re not a farmer, Nick,” he says eventually.

At that, Nick stops in his tracks, takes a deep breath and rams his rake into the already broken up soil so it stands there like a skew traffic sign. “I’m not a person who does shit, I’m a poet, I’m a black sheep, I’m a fighter. When will you ever stop telling me what I am and what I am not?”

Troy eyes him for a long while, then eventually his face breaks into a smirk. “As soon as you finally realize it yourself.”

 

**The Diamond – through Troy’s eyes**

 

Troy’s always wanted the best for Nick, and even though the latter keeps claiming he’s happy tending to the crops, Troy has his doubts. He’s sure Nick must secretly be bored by this – albeit strenuous – otherwise hardly demanding labor. He must feel confined within the narrow walls of the stadium. So Troy’s been repeating his invitation for Nick to join the militia time and again.

Or maybe he simply misses his friend on the supply runs, the confrontations with the dead, the training. Cause after all, Nick is the one person he trusts the most. The one person he can rely on more than anyone. The one who shares one of his darkest secrets. That’s the way things are now. Ironic, almost, considering the way things started out.

Truth is, Troy and Nick hadn’t _really_ been friends until that moment at the dam. Their relationship had always been based on a rational calculus, both of them pursuing certain objectives by keeping up the friendly face: In the beginning, Troy had been striving to get closer to Madison through him. Later, Nick had become a convenient ally and therefore turned into a valuable asset of his own. As far as Nick was concerned, it was obvious he’d only started acting friendly towards Troy because of his excruciating bad conscience for killing Jeremiah. That was no secret – and it was okay. They were both aware of each other’s true colors, and they could live with it.

The moment at the dam however had changed everything. When Nick had risked physical torture just to keep Troy safe. Until then, no one had ever been willing to sacrifice that much for him, had ever given him the feeling he was worth enough to take such a risk. So from that day on, Troy had started to see Nick in a different light, and with a shiver running down his spine he’d realized that the words he’d claimed to Madison were actually true: _“Nick’s my only friend.”_

And Troy enjoys spending time with his friend, he does – and he’d enjoy it even more if Nick was out there with him, both of them fighting side by side, facing all those dangers together, having each other’s backs… instead of always heading out with just the ordinary members of his militia. All decent people, no doubt about that. But none of them mattering as much to Troy as Nick.

 _It can’t be helped_ , Troy thinks, hopping off the truck some day later that week, after the stadium militia had once again returned from one of their usual supply runs. And of course, once again without Nick on the team. Even though that still bugs him, at least bounty-wise, Troy’s pretty content with today’s yield. All high quality stuff, critical stuff – amongst other things several packages of crop seeds, and that would always outweigh any truckload full of granola bars.

On top of that, the raid has also been a particular success for Troy on a personal note: After all, he’s finally been able to get his hands on a particular item he’d been looking for for weeks. And today, he’s holding it in his hands. _Brilliant_. Letting it slip into his pocket, he smiles contently. He can’t wait to make good use of it.

After helping Cole and the others unload the truck, he makes his way through the stadium, merrily whistling some random tune, greeting the people working on the fields or tending to the cattle. This place’s a mini version of a farm, so to speak, and yet in so many ways different from his former home. With just a few dozen people living here, there’s no need to produce as much food as they used to at the ranch. Less pressure to secure as many supplies. And that means more freedom, more time to live instead of just survive.

“Hey, Troy,” Douglas calls, as he spots the younger man from afar. “Any luck with the tomato seeds?”

“Got them, Doug,” Troy replies, leisurely pointing over his shoulder, back at the trucks.

Douglas just gives him the thumbs-up, then focuses back on clipping the sheep.

Another advantage of the Diamond community: Fresh people meant a fresh start with a clean slate. In that regard, it’s a lot easier to stay on friendly terms with the people living here. Less of them approach him with suspicion or reservation, even less with open animosity. Of course, there are exceptions.

Passing by the workshop, Alicia quickly looks up from her work, gracing him with one of her trademark looks. _Oh, yeah, Alicia._

63 days after they’d founded the Diamond community, Madison’s daughter had shown up at the stadium gates, a black girl in tow. Apparently, she’d actually found their note in Jake’s cabin, following them all the way to Texas. Roaming the country aimlessly, she and her friend had one day bumped into Althea as well, and telling her their story, the latter had identified her as her friends’ missing family member. And dropped her off at the Diamond.

Madison and Nick had immediately been overjoyed to be reunited with her, and whereas Troy generally didn’t mind, in his eyes the biggest advantage of her return was the opportunity to find out what had happened at the dam after Madison, Nick and him had taken off – especially in regards to Daniel Salazar, that senile old bastard who had nothing better to do than to blame him for his daughter’s lack of fighting skills.

Cause yeah, as it turns out, Alicia’d made it to the dam as well – ironically just minutes after they themselves had left. Apparently, she and her friend had had the pleasure of making the Proctor’s acquaintance as well, Alicia becoming some sort of nurse to him, while the black girl was recovering from an injury. The Proctors had taken Alicia with them when they paid the dam a visit, where Victor – exactly like Nick had warned them – had stabbed Lola and Salazar in the back, opening the gates wide for the enemy to take the dam. Lola had been killed in the process, Alicia told them, whereas Salazar had gone missing after Victor had shot him in the face and left him to die – but no one ever found his body. So unfortunately his fate remains unknown. Possible he ran and recovered, possible he might still be thirsting for Troy’s blood. But whatever, they’re half a country away here. How on earth could he possibly find them?

With the dam subsequently in the Proctors’ hands and Victor rewarded with the promised leadership position, Alicia had eventually been allowed to leave in order to search for her family, as she’d wished to so badly. And so the way had been paved for the happy family reunion.

Still, as it turned out, even after all this time the antipathy the girl had always felt towards Troy hadn’t diminished in the slightest. On the contrary. It well may have turned into open animosity. Every time Alicia looks at him, he gets the feeling she can see right through him, see into the core of his soul. See what’s underneath the lies and the pretense. And more than that: Every time she looks at him, he feels as if her eyes were saying: “It should have been Jake. He’s the one who’d have deserved to survive. Not you.” And hell, he couldn’t even argue.

So without any further acknowledgement, they break eye contact again and Alicia turns back to her work. Without paying her any more attention, Troy heads on to his destination, plunging into the darkness of the catacombs underneath the stadium. He has more important things to do than try to gain the sympathy of Alicia Clark.

Down here is where the lockers and physio facilities of the former baseball players are located – as well as an endless labyrinth of maintenance and storage rooms. There was quite the infrastructure necessary to run and power a huge stadium like this. For the few dozen people living here now, of course, not all of that is needed anymore. So whereas the entire place has been scouted out, a lot of the rooms are still untouched or locked, whatever’s hidden behind them neither of use nor of interest to the current inhabitants.

Not to Troy, though. In a lucky coincidence, he’d managed to grab a key from one of the deceased security staff, granting him access to a bunch of locked storage rooms. He’s kept it secret from everyone else, since no matter how close they’d all grown in the past months, neither Madison nor Nick would understand. Understand how necessary it still is to keep researching. To gather more intel and knowledge about how to battle and resist this omnipresent threat they’re facing.

Making sure no one’s around, Troy pulls out the key to his hideout once again, unlocking the door. The hissing and snarling of the two infected greets him like the whimpering of two dogs welcoming their master.

“Look at what I got, Larry,” Troy says, pulling the scalpel from his pocket. “Now we can finally find out which part of your brain exactly causes the miraculous resurrection. Isn’t that exciting?”

 

***

 

_“I don’t understand. How can you be so calm when you’ve just lost everything? The people you loved, the home where you’ve spent your entire life?”_

_The face in the camera seems surprisingly collected. “Well, I’ve actually lost my home long before that. The Indians came and took it and turned it to something else. It wasn’t my home anymore. And still, I tried to save it, didn’t I?” The man shrugs. “Just turned out it was beyond saving.”_

_“Still,” the voice behind the camera insists. “A huge part of your life must have crumbled to dust.”_

_“I also gained a lot,” the man points out. “People who care about me. People who would risk their lives, their own wellbeing just to keep me safe. Resist torture for me. People who would leave everything behind just to get me to safety, to run with me from a place where my life was in danger. I’ve… never had that before in my life.”_

_“So you’re saying the apocalypse also changed some things for the better?”_

_“Oh, it changed a lot of things for the better,” the man muses. “The Old World was a rotten and cruel place, where the powerful would mistreat the powerless, and the powerless would be forced to endure. In the Old World, people had no real goals, no real meaning in their lives. They would work so hard every day, but for what purpose? They’d spend their hard-earned money on stuff to numb their senses. In the Old World, the zombies were the living.” There’s almost something like a flicker of joy in his eyes as he continues – or maybe it’s just a reflection of the camera light. “In the New World, the dead are the zombies and the ones still standing are now the powerful.”_

_“Huh,” the voice behind the camera comments. “So you’re saying the apocalypse has given you power.”_

_“It has given me_ purpose _,” the man corrects her. “In the New World, people work hard every day to_ survive _– that’s what I call an actual meaningful cause. They need to fight to protect themselves and the ones they love. They need to understand this world, they need to understand their enemies, otherwise they’ll be torn apart.” That smile is back, tugging at the corner of his lips. “I can help with that.”_

_“So you got a reason to fight?”_

_Now that smile’s turned into a full-fledged smirk. “I got a lot of reasons to fight.”_

 

**The Diamond – Through different eyes**

 

“If I’d been invited, I would have brought marshmallows.” Troy grins as he steps into the light of the fire, a flickering glow, painting his face in an unsteady mixture of shadows and light. “Whatcha doin’?”

Nick stops and shoots him a quick look, then purses his lips with a shrug, before dropping another turnip into the hungry flames. “Looks like you were right after all,” he says eventually, not piqued, not bitter. Just grim. “I’m not a farmer.”

Troy stares at his friend for a while, the two of them separated by the fire. Just like back then, after the dam, when their eyes had met over the fire and their look become a silent oath. _This secret, we’re taking to the grave._

So much has happened ever since. They’ve both changed so much. They’ve both been granted a new life. Who actually had the right to judge what they could and couldn’t be?

Wordlessly, Troy picks up one of the turnips from the pile on the ground, inspects it for a while, then tosses it into the flames as well.

“Careful. You might accidentally cheer me up,” Nick says eventually, the slightest hint of sarcasm curving his lips.

Troy doesn’t reply at first, then, unexpectedly, he starts rolling up his sleeve – revealing a broad bandage around the crook of his arm. “One of those flag assholes we were fighting last week on the road got me with his blade.” He looks up at Nick and their eyes meet. “Does that make me a bad fighter?”

“No,” Nick replies slowly. “On the contrary. It makes you an even better one. It’s proof you’ve collected experience.”

At that, Troy can’t help letting out a soft chuckle. “See?” And adding with a reassuring voice: “There’s new seeds in the toolshed.”

Nick picks up another turnip and stares at it for a long time, thinking about Troy’s words. Eventually, he snorts. “You’re right,” he murmurs, before entrusting the vegetable to the flames. Burn the burdens of the past, so you can start anew. And suddenly, he even catches himself smiling. That’s right. He’s collected experience. He will try again.

“Hm, sorry,” Troy chips in immediately. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

Nick looks up, shooting his friend a reproachful look. “I said,” he repeats, voice now mockingly loud, “you’re a freaking smartass.” And to add emphasis to his words – and maybe also annoy Troy a little – he takes aim at one of the rotten turnips on the ground and kicks it towards Troy. It bounces off the concrete several times, before rolling right between Troy’s legs.

“Ha!” Nick laughs and clenches his fists in mock-cheer. “I guess that’s a goal!”

Troy can’t help rolling his eyes. “You do realize this is a baseball stadium, not a soccer arena?”

“You do realize I don’t have a bat?” Nick counters with a defiant grin, and before Troy even gets a chance to react, he’s nutmegged once again.

“Two nil for me!” Nick chimes.

“Grow up,” Troy growls.

“You’re a smartass _and_ a bore,” Nick corrects himself with a huff, before turning back to his task and bending down to reach for the next turnip.

Under normal circumstances, Troy would have never played along in such a childish game, but with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like that, he’d be a moron to let it slip. Taking aim at Nick, he kicks one of the turnips himself – and it hits Nick right on the butt.

“Hey!” Nick complains, spinning round immediately, but this time it’s Troy’s turn to burst into the merriest of laughters.

“Now that’s what I call a penalty!” he snorts with glee.

“Yeah, right…” Nick growls. “Because that’s so mature…”

“It’s super funny in any case,” Troy keeps laughing.

“Fine,” Nick counters. “I guess it’s time I show you what a _real_ penalty looks like!”

Not wasting a second, Nick lunges at Troy immediately, but Troy’s quick to turn around, shielding the turnip that’s now their new ball with his body.

“Ha, you wish!” Troy hisses, trying to get the turnip into a good position to take another shot at Nick.

Nick on the other hand is determined to get the ball himself, grabbing Troy’s shirt to try to pull him back, as Troy struggles to fend off the other man.

For several moments, they tackle for the turnip like this, until eventually their makeshift ball takes a little bounce, ending up in the perfect position for a great shot. Both eager to take that opportunity, they both strike out and hit the ball at the same time – and the rotten vegetable crushes into a mess of sludgy mash.

And that marks the end of their glorious little soccer match.

Still locked in their fierce tackle, they both blink at each other for a second, then burst into a new round of laughter, chuckling at the absurdity of the moment, and also simply enjoying this moment of silliness with each other.

“Good _God_ ,” Nick groans eventually, letting go of Troy and giving him one final, amicable clap on the shoulder before turning around. “And this is what we survived the freaking dam for?!”

Troy can’t help chuckling at that, as he watches Nick stroll back to the burning barrel. _Yeah, maybe it is_ , he thinks to himself, though he suddenly feels his smile grow somewhat heavy. _Or maybe…_ It’s weird. But he can still feel Nick’s warmth against him where their bodies touched fighting for the ball seconds ago – and it’s a wonderful, pleasant warmth.

Nick, apparently unfazed by the moment, is already back to feeding the fire with turnips. “Even though I guess if you look at it the other way–“

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence. Before they even realize what’s going on, a beeping alarm cuts through the nightly silence, blaring from the stadium’s speakers.

Nick and Troy’s eyes meet in shock. They know exactly what this means.

_Something’s happened._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for my own chapter length recommendation ;) But there was just so much to tell!  
> Can't wait to see what kind of conflict we'll be facing :) I tried to drop little hints at possible conflicts here and there - maybe one of them will pique your interest and fuel your inspiration, catastrophage. Though I'm sure whatever you'll come up with, it will be super exciting!  
> The story - as well as Nick and Troy's fate - is in your hands now :)


	3. Losing Someone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, catastrophage here. I got assigned to write a conflict... so I did. I hope it aligns with the other chapters, I tried my best. I'm so excited to be in this, it's definitely a great experience and I'm so curious what everyone is going to write in their parts! I guess I gave nicofox quite a bit to deal with (sorry) I really hope our boys will get out of this alive.

**Chapter 2 - Losing Someone**

_"I have lost someone. Someone important to me."_

_The camera tries to focus but fails. The view shakes, a voice from the off mutters_ "batteries," _sounding distorted, with a static noise like a stutter._

***

A beeping alarm cuts through the nightly silence, blaring from the stadium speakers. Nick and Troy’s eyes meet in shock. Then Troy's expression changes. _This is serious now,_ it says.  
Within seconds the older of the two hurries toward the gates. He grabs a rifle from a shelf nearby and only stops to tell Cole, the guy from his militia, to stay behind. "I want you inside. Run up to the stands."

Nick stays with the turnips. He always stays with the turnips. Not wanting to be involved, albeit worried, he stands there - unable to move, unable to just turn and hide.  
The alarm stops, the gate opens. And then, all of a sudden, silence falls over the stadium.  
There is just a single person standing at the gates, a woman, judging by her thin frame. She left her truck, and now that the militia slowly approach her, she raises her arms in defense. _That's not Althea,_ Nick figures. _Althea would not have caused an alarm._ Slowly, he forces one foot in front of the other and walks up closer to the entrance. 

He watches Troy coming to a halt. Watches his shoulders drop and his head tilt. One step closer - Nick peeks out from behind a concrete post. His eyes widen, when he realizes why Troy is lowering his defense. They know this woman. One year ago, way back at the ranch... "Luciana?" Nick whispers, but of course he is too far behind for her to hear him.

"You, here?" he can hear Troy's voice cut through the night. The spot they're standing at is illuminated by the floodlights turned to the outside, which are part of the alarm. From behind, Nick can see how Troy's posture has changed. He has put his thumbs into his belt, and his head is still tilted. Luciana seems just as surprised to find him there, her lips tremble and her brows furrow. 

Nick wonders the same - _Luciana, here?_ \- but there is no way he can approach and ask her. For too long he has been hiding within these walls. How were the chances for her to find him? Maybe if she had returned to the ranch she had noticed it was overrun. Did she follow their traces? Alicia's traces?  
And there is another question nagging at him. _Do I want this to happen?_  
Somehow he can't find an answer, which unsettles him even more.

He can hear Luciana ask for a hideout, can hear her telling Troy - _Troy of all people_ \- that she needs a safe place. Confused, certainly not ready to deal with the situation and on shaky legs, Nick retreats from the shadows of the entrance pillars, back to his fields and then into the safety of his room.

***

_"It was the best, and also the worst decision of my life."_

_The camera is raised to show a young woman with dark hair. Her chest is covered in a tattered loop scarf and a set of tank tops. She looks at the camera for a long moment, then lets out a sigh, almost an angered huff. "I didn't want to compromise."_

_The interviewer seems to prepare to ask a question, but the woman in the video continues to speak. "Where did it lead me? It didn't lead me anywhere. Wherever I went, there were some_ bastardos _who tried to rule the world. They limit the resources, they let the people starve and die from thirst."_

_"But before, you have been in safety?" the voice from the off asks._

_Her expression is grim, as the woman speaks into the camera. "No place is safe."_

***

"Stoned, Cole?" Troy is loading the truck with a wide grin, mocking his fellow militia member in the passenger seat, who is resting his legs on the dashboard. Cole answers with a grin of his own. "Well it's been how long - three weeks - since I was allowed in here?"  
Troy rolls his eyes and turns away to get more empty boxes and barrels to take along. "You want to let the girls do your job?" he calls over his shoulder, almost bumping into Luciana on his way.  
"I can carry a lot more than this," she hisses at him. And Troy's expression changes, becomes more serious, more sincere. "I know you can." His eyes rest on her face. He gives her one of his intense looks, while he is sorting his thoughts. Then he adds: "I'm glad to have you with us."

Three weeks have passed since Luciana was standing at the gates. Troy had let her in, clearly amused by the irony of life, and Madison, who arrived at the gates shortly after, welcomed her.  
And of course they moved her to Nick's room.  
They are sleeping back to back since, they never talk, unless it's necessary. When Luciana gets up, Nick pretends to be asleep. When she comes home from supply runs, Nick is reading a book, or he leaves the room claiming he has forgotten something down in the fields. Sometimes he doesn't return at all, but keeps sitting in the seats of the stadium, near the entrance to the catacombs, waiting for Troy to stop by.

"Are you building a gym down there or something?" Nick asked him once, when Troy was carrying a small heart rate monitor and some bottles of water. "Maybe," Troy answered and sat down beside him. "You could use one, staying at home all day." He flipped the thick watch-like bracelet in his hand. "Gotta write you a workout plan. But as long as the weather is good," - he nodded at the fields - "I recommend exercises in the open air."  
"Like turnipball?" Nick asked, a rare shine of mischief in his eyes. "Yep, turnipball." Troy started to grin. "The small ball is good aiming exercise. And I like how it wobbles around, can't really tell which direction it will go."  
Nick snorted at Troy's sarcasm, but somehow it made him feel good for a moment. "Too bad the turnips are good now."

Nick has never followed him in the catacombs. And he has never told his mother that Luciana and he aren't a couple anymore either. He doesn't want to be the cause for a conflict again.  
And surprisingly, Troy hasn't started trouble either, now that Luciana is back. Quite the contrary, he has invited her to the militia, granted her access to weapons. Nick turned pale and started sweating when he witnessed Troy telling Luciana that yes, she could shoot him, but he'd rather have her shooting walkers in service to the Diamond community. When she raised her gun to point at him, but in the end secured it at her belt and agreed to do supply runs.

And that's what she is doing now. Luciana has climbed the truck bed and is knocking at the cabin to signal that she's finished securing the cargo.  
But Troy turns around and approaches the stadium once more. "Come with us, Nicky." They look at each other through the closing gates, and Troy believes that the younger is yearning to go out, he just has experienced something that keeps him locked inside. He reaches him his hand, but Nick shakes his head. "That's your world, not mine. Have fun."  
The younger wants to add _stay safe,_ but he can't. He feels like he'd conjure something bad by implying it could happen. They just look at each other for a moment, both worried and neither able to express it. "It is-" Troy starts, but he is interrupted by Luciana's loud voice from behind.  
"Don't you get bored in there?"  
Nick takes his chance to evade talking about his feelings. "I do, yeah," he yells back at her. "It's great."  
He winks at Troy and turns away as the gates snap shut.

"You know why I wanted you to stay inside?" Troy asks, once he's back at the truck and drops himself onto the driver's seat. Cole shrugs, and makes no move to take down his feet. "Is it because I almost got impaled on that walking fence zombie?"  
Troy snorts as he remembers it. The poor guy must have gotten stuck in a fence on his undead travelling, and then pulled the rotten wood out of the ground to go on. On the militia list of the most hilarious undead, it ranked second, right after the guy who died from a shock while relieving himself onto a high voltage line. He has almost forgotten that one, with all the things on his mind lately.  
"No," Troy answers. "If you're so stupid as to try jumping onto a walking fence, I'd call that _natural selection._ "

He doesn't mean it. He wouldn't like if Cole died, because they've become buddies, and sometimes the guy with the slight squint and the dark beard reminds him of a childhood friend. Before the apocalypse, he had been a college student, majoring in biology - or more exactly, _botany._ This was the reason he made him stay with Nick. When the turnips started to rot before ripening, Cole could help him in the fields - which he did, successfully.  
And now Troy just grins as the other man calls him an _asshole,_ while Luciana slaps her hand against the car frame impatiently.

***

As the truck drives away, a young woman sneaks into the catacombs. She has seen Troy go down there before, she knows he's up to something. All the things Alicia has told her, all the things she can see in his eyes when he looks at her... he is not to be trusted. His wicked smile, his tasteless jokes. She can remember the first thing she heard him say, a quiet remark to his friend. _"It's getting dark in here."_

Diana is accustomed to work alone. Some of the people here are good at hiding their secrets, or telling lies. Troy isn't. He couldn't see her hiding in the shadows, watching him. He couldn't hide the fact that he's working on a secret plan. And - he couldn't lock his keys properly. With a wide grin the woman pulls a key from her pocket. Just one. She couldn't risk him noticing.

She has pulled up her blue scarf over her mouth, put her dangling jewelry into her pockets, so that she isn't heard. Every door is a quick stop - _trial and error._ Their supply run is scheduled to last for at least four hours, so she has all the time in the world.  
Behind some of the doors she can hear grunts and groans when the key meets the lock and makes a scratching noise. _Walkers._ Immediately she remembers the herd Alicia told her about. Her assumptions about who has led it, told in confidence. 

The next door is the right one, the key fits and turns, and the door opens silently. Diana quickly pulls her scarf higher, so that it covers her nose and wards off the biting stench. It's a dressing room, blood splattered everywhere, and lined up at the lockers are undead, numbers written on their foreheads, their arms cut off and rotting on a pile. The first one, next to the door - _number 226_ \- has his jaw removed. He stands there all silently and watches her enter. A name plate on his overalls identifies him as _Gregory._

Diana lets out a whistle. What Troy has done here looks like a lot of work. Every single one of them is strapped to the lockers behind, some have open skulls, some lack their eyes. Turning around she finds _Gregory's_ jaw lying on one of the benches, along with a clipboard.  
_"Greg has stopped biting the moment I removed his jaw,"_ she reads aloud. Her voice heavy from sarcasm she adds: "What a surprise, really."  
But the next line makes her shut up again. _He still tries to catch and hold me. What he gets hold of, he leads to what's left of his mouth._  
Her eyes wander back to the pile of arms. _That's why._

She can't help it. Before even realizing what she's doing there, she has pulled out a tooth from the soft, rotting flesh. She doesn't need pliers, the flesh is breaking down already. Then another.  
She walks over to the arms, looking for a ring or two. _If Troy is allowed his little hobby, so am I._  
Exposing his secret can wait - for another three hours.

***

_"Who is it you're looking for?" the voice from the off asks._  
_The camera is focused on two young women, one with long brown curls, the other with short black hair. The darker skinned woman is resting her head on a huge pickaxe, watching her friend while she's telling her story._

_"I'm looking for my family."_  
_The young woman doesn't show any emotion looking into the camera._

_"Did you lose them?"_

_A pause. She seems unfazed by the question, but she doesn't answer directly. Then - "I ran away."_

_"Why?"_

_She swallows, but continues her interview. "I have seen things that have changed me. Who I am. The community I had stayed at - it was a good place to stay at, for a while. But it was destroyed by a herd. I think it may have been led there on purpose. It was all a bit much. I wasn't sure if my family was involved somehow, and I needed time to understand what had happened."_

_When there's a new pause, the darker woman raises her voice. "But you can't run away from your life... or who you are."_  
_The woman with the long curls nods. "That's it. I'm a part of my family, will always be. And what's happened can't be undone."_

_"When was the last time you saw them?" the interviewer asks her._

_She has to think about her answer for a moment. "Half a year ago, I think. A little more. We parted near Blythe. They went down to Mexicali, I headed east."_  
_The other woman raises her eyebrows. "We weren't that far from Mexicali."_  
_"Yeah - right. I ended up there after all."_

_"But your family was gone?"_

_The camera is lowered slightly, to show the women's hands. The one who is interviewed seems to get nervous, she is rubbing her thumb against her fingers. "I have met someone. We were traveling for a while. We made it to Tuscon, but I've been missing my family. So they... let me go... search for them."_  
_The other woman chimes in to support her friend. "We have met again shortly after in El Paso. I run a small business - charms -" she pulls out a bracelet with bone charms. "And Alicia found me at the Sun Bowl trading post. It was such a welcome surprise."_

_Alicia's lips curve in a smile, ever so slightly. "Yeah, it was. Quite a surprise."_

***

It's way deep in the night, when the truck finally returns. Nick is standing at the gates, his forehead wrinkled in worries. Madison is standing next to him, arms crossed. He can't read her expression. Something must be on her mind, something displeasing, but he can't tell what it is.  
Douglas calls for the gates to open, and the truck drives into the safety of the stadium, almost racing, it's not even stopping at the entrance. It only comes to a halt before it rolls onto the fields.  
Troy leaves the driver's seat and walks back to the others. His face and clothes are covered in blood, his eyes are widened, he seems agitated. Cole follows him, hesitantly.

"Luciana is gone."  
Everyone is so silent that Troy's words resound in the stadium.  
Madison purses her lips, and makes a step towards him. They just stare at each other, until she informs him: "We have to talk. _Downstairs._ "

Cole's eyes widen, and so do Nick's. _"Mom!"_ he calls her. " _Please,_ let him explain what happened!"

Troy's expression softens, when he looks at Nick. "Alright," he says quietly. He can't tear his eyes away from him, even when Madison turns around to head for the catacombs, and Troy takes his first steps to follow her. "It's alright, Nicky," he tells him in a whisper, as he walks past.

***

"Is it because she's Mexican?"

They have started talking as soon as the first door shut behind them. Now they're walking down the long corridors of the catacombs - Troy's territory. And he knows that it means Madison knows what he's doing down there. She can't miss the groans behind the doors either. But they're talking about Luciana - and Troy tries desperately to make her listen to his story. _The truth._  
"I told you, I didn't harm her. She's my friend, just like Cole, like... Nick. _The-_ "

Madison interrupts him. "She didn't just walk off, did she?"  
Troy takes a deep breath. He almost fires back that _it wouldn't be the first time Luciana does that,_ but if there's one thing Nick had taught him over the months, then it's that sometimes he needs to shut up. "The flag assholes got her. They shot at us from a grain silo."

"Is she dead?"  
Madison turns around to look him in the eyes. Troy tries to hold the stare, but eventually he fails and looks down. He glances at her hands, clenching the hammer at her belt. For a second he gets the bad feeling that this is not just a briefing or him getting told off. It's an interrogation, and it might end in a sentence. "I don't know," he quickly admits. "We ran and then we got separated."  
"And you just took the truck and left?" She purses her lips again, and before he can answer, she nods at the doors. "Open a room we can talk in."

Troy can feel his blood boil. All the accusations, they don't make it any easier for him to stay calm. He can feel how sweaty his fingers are, when he takes out his keys and opens a small office-like room. Apparently it was once used for strategic planning, there is a whiteboard on the wall. Now it has formulas scribbled all over. Books about biology and anatomy are scattered on the desk, along with a classroom model of the human brain, one of the treasures Troy found when he was scavenging a high school. 

Madison fishes a key out of her pocket and puts it onto the desk where Troy can see it. "You know this key?"  
Yes, he does know it. There is a little number engraved on it, like on the other keys he has. _Room 35,_ one of the locker rooms. "Have you been there?" he asks, forcing his voice calm. He looks up from the table, back into her face, searching for any sign of emotion. But Madison's face looks blank, hard to read. She's cold and stern - and she doesn't answer his question. "Did you kill her for your sick experiments?"

He can feel it, how he is slowly losing his temper. Thoughts are running through his mind, in all directions. _Someone has stolen the key, but who?_ And then Madison's interrogation. He doesn't even know which problem to focus on, his whole world seems to crumble around him. Like a bystander, he can hear his own voice getting louder. "Madison - I did _not_ kill Luciana. We lost her. We searched for her, for hours, but there is no, absolutely _no_ trace of her. We used the camouflage to search _in a herd and-_ "

"A _herd?_ " Madison's eyes pierce through him. "Is there anything you want to tell me, _Troy?_ "

Sudden silence fills the room. Troy takes a while to process what Madison has just asked - _implied_ \- and for a moment he can see Nick in his mind, looking at him through a campfire. His eyes say _don't._  
When he talks again, Troy's voice is quiet, a little throaty even. His expression softens. "I didn't kill anyone."

Madison apparently thinks about his statement, she stares into the empty space, trying to connect the things that have happened. Luciana's disappearance. Secret experiments in the basement. _A herd._ Nothing of this is new. It all has happened before.  
"How can I trust you?" she asks after a while - and she actually means that she _can't_ \- but her voice gets lost in the sound of sirens wailing right above them. 

They look at each other in shock, none of them moving, although both want to. Troy feels responsible to return to the gates, but Madison quickly blocks his way. "No, you don't," she hisses.  
Before Troy realizes what's happening, she has snatched his keys. "We're not finished yet," she declares. She's at the door the next moment, leaving the room, turning the key and - Troy is locked inside.

***

Nick is standing at the gates, once again hidden behind the concrete pillars that stabilize the building above him. Five big trucks arrive at the stadium, the floodlights shining at them, as if it was a stage they entered.  
Two men leave their vehicle and pull a third person from the truck bed, tied with ropes and a pillow cover over their head. They don't say a word, they just approach the gates. Meanwhile about a dozen leave the other trucks, they stand at the sidelines, some with their arms crossed, and watch.

Nick turns around to look at the stadium. Alicia and Diana have arrived, and Cole stands just a couple of feet besides him. Madison and Troy are nowhere to be seen. _It's up to Alicia and me what we're doing,_ the young man realizes, filled with horror.

Then a silver sedan arrives. The driver leaves the car and hurries over to the passenger door, to help a middle aged man out. Apparently he walks with a limp, it takes him a few seconds to reach the others, even with the help of his chauffeur. "Remove the cover, Melvin," he says.  
The younger of the two men in the front complies. 

And there she stands, Luciana. Her face is in a grimace, she's struggling against the restrains of the men behind her - a knife held to her throat.  
"Let's make a deal," the older man says, turning towards the gates - and his voice is absurdly soft, not much more than a purr.

***

_"I have lost someone."_

_The camera focuses on the face of a man in his 40s, long shaggy hair, lined silver at his temples. He has sad eyes, with small pupils. The interviewer swallows and waits. When the man doesn't continue, she asks him a question. "Whom did you lose?"_

_"She was my nurse. Half a year- back in Mexicali. A gorgeous woman. Where I went, she came with me." He flashes a smile, as if he is just remembering the good times, but his eyes never stop to look sad._

_"What happened?" The voice asks soft, but neutral._

_"We were leading some trucks down to Tuscon. I have a water reservoir there. It's some sort of a business I run... reservoirs, trade centers. From Tijuana to Houston. I have my own damn airport. But she left, ran east. I have heard she was seen at El Paso."_

_"Why did she run away?"_

_The man shrugs. "She was hunting ghosts, I'd say."_  
_There is a pause, the man stares at the camera, at the woman behind._  
_"I'm heading east. My chain was broken when the Mansfield Dam fell, I'm finding a new place in the region."_  
_Another pause, then a soft chuckle. His eyes never tear away from the woman behind the camera._

***

"Give me the stadium, and I will spare her life and yours."  
The man's voice sends shivers down Nick's spine. When nobody answers him, he continues to elaborate his offer.  
"She's trouble, I know. Big trouble indeed. But two gentlemen of yours have searched for her perseveringly... it was heartbreaking to watch and lead me to the conclusion that you might want her back."  
Suddenly he smiles. _"Ah - there is one of them."_

Nick looks to his side and indeed, Cole has stepped out of the shadows and towards the gates. His chest is sinking and rising with the heavy breaths he takes. 

"While you think about it, there is another request I have," the older man continues.  
"Diana? _Please bring her back to me._ Bring my nurse back home."  
Nick can hear a thud behind him, and he turns around to witness Diana, who has knocked out his sister, picking her up to bring her to the gates.  
_"No,"_ he wants to say, but his voice refuses to leave his lips, he just stands there, staring at her open-mouthed. _Not Alicia._  
"Sorry." The brawny woman wears a smile on her lips. "I don't believe in friendship."

Slowly Nick starts to realize what's going on. Alicia has mentioned it, working as a nurse for the Proctors, way back in Mexicali. _But she was allowed to go, wasn't she?_  
_So the man must be..._  
"John," Nick's voice cuts through the darkness of the entrance, before he steps out into the light.

"Finally someone willing to negotiate," John answers, while Cole attempts to stop Diana at the gates - without avail. As soon as he gets in her way, some of the men near the trucks fire warning shots at his feet.

"Mansfield Dam, does it ring a bell?" Proctor John starts to talk again, walking up towards Nick with slow, hobbling steps. "It used to be mine, but _someone_ caused it to collapse. Did she ever talk about it?"

***

_"What do you mean, no place is safe?"_

_Luciana looks up and into the camera. "Like I said," she huffs. "Now less than ever."_

_The voice from the off seems to shift, the view shakes for a short moment. "What has changed?"_

_"I have changed," Luciana quickly answers. Her expression is grim. "I have... I have done things. Caused things to break. I wanted revenge for all the people they killed, all my friends who have starved. There was a place, a dam and I..." - she trails off. A strand of hair falls down into her face and she quickly pushes it back, a nervous gesture. "They're after me."_

_"Is there no place - no person - you can turn to, even now?" The interviewer sounds almost compassionate._

_"They're everywhere. All the way from Baja to here... I can't go anywhere."_

_"And your boyfriend - your ex - do you know where he is now?"_

***

Nick's fingers clench around the gun in his hands. He can't even remember how he pulled it out, he just realizes it when he can see the barrel directed at John. He can feel his arms starting to tremble. It's getting hard to aim, and the gun feels heavy - _so heavy_. He has not used a gun in what feels forever. Ghost images of Jeremiah are haunting him until today, even now, and prevent him from pulling the trigger.  
"An interesting turn of events," John muses. He adds a harsh command. "Ennis - _kill her_."

Nick can't. He can't move, can't shoot, _can't._ His eyes widen as the man called Ennis pulls his arm aside in a fast movement. And then the blood starts to pour. Luciana's hands jerk up, touch her throat, while her feet can barely keep her up anymore. She faints.  
The gun feels even heavier, now that Nick realizes he can't save her. He drops it, stumbles backwards. He almost bumps into his mother, who comes running to the scene.

 _I can't save them all,_ he realizes in shock. _I'm always losing someone._


	4. Hostage

“I’m not backing down.” Madison mutters to herself between gritted teeth as she hears John’s words, her mind racing, trying to come up with something, anything to save her home. 

She sees her son quickly raise his hand and point a gun at Proctor John, his eyes completely hollow of any emotion for a split second. Until he hears Proctor John’s orders to one of his men, that is. Suddenly, everything happens almost too fast.

As the blood pours out from the slit on Luciana’s neck and all the color drains out from her once tanned skin, a look of pain and desperation spread across her face, Nick stumbles back and drops his gun. He is in a state of complete shock. Everything is buzzing and he can hear a muffled voice starting to speak, but being cut off by the sound of gun going off.

Cole, standing by Madison’s side, takes the opportunity of Luciana’s fate serving as a distraction and takes a shot at Diana, hitting her right on the leg – the same leg he _knew_ she had hurt not that long ago. Maybe _she_ didn’t do friendship, but Alicia did. Diana, having just walked a few steps out of the front gate, immediately falls to the ground in pain, dropping an unconscious Alicia by her side as she now clutches to her bleeding knee. 

“Alicia!” Madison yells, rushing to where Diana and Alicia were now on the floor, eager to try to save her daughter before one of John’s men got to her. Nick had snapped back to reality the second he heard his sister’s name, so he runs alongside his mother to try to rescue her. Maybe he couldn’t save everyone, but he would be dead before he let anything happen to his sister.

The man they called Ennis quickly pushes his knife into Luciana’s head and then out, to keep her from turning. He aggressively shoves her lifeless bloodstained body to the side, skipping over it as he strides to the front gate, heading straight for Cole. The dark haired man stands his ground, his gun raised, now pointed at Ennis. He knew the danger he faced when he took that shot at Diana, but it was done now and he wasn’t one for regrets anyways.

Some of the other men get into position at the front gate, expectantly watching the events that unfold before their eyes as they get ready to close the gates as soon as possible, no matter what happens next. It’s clear now that they’re not giving up the stadium, they’re fighting for it – a decision Cole had made clear when he shot Diana, but one everyone else at the Diamond stood behind completely.

Madison and Nick alternate between glancing at where Cole stands sternly and to the other man quickly approaching them as they try to drag Alicia inside as fast as they can. Ennis, who has an almost maniac smile tugging at the corner of his lips, raises his gun to point it at Cole. They both have their pistols pointed at each other. It’s a matter of seconds before they’re at a good enough distance to get a precise shot. Now it’s down to who’s the best sh–

They hear a gunshot.

“No!” They hear a voice coming from behind them as they’re just finishing dragging Alicia inside. She’s regaining consciousness by now, her eyelids fluttering open and her eyebrows furrowing in a mix of confusion and pain. 

Nick looks over his shoulder to the other direction, to where the voice came from, and sees Ryan, another resident of the stadium – Cole’s _boyfriend_ \- walking over... Cole’s body, lying lifeless on the floor, blood pouring from a single bullet wound to his head. The boy quickly realizes what Ryan is about to do and gets up, running up to try to stop him.

“Close the gate! _Now!_ ” Nick screams to the few men who had been standing in position, but now were perhaps too shocked to even move. As soon as they hear the boy’s voice, however, they immediately take action.

But it’s too late.

Ryan raises his gun and, before Nick is able to reach him, he takes a single shot to Ennis’ head and the man who smiled so smugly before now, too, falls lifeless on the floor. They can hear a scream coming from the outside as the gates are finally closing and Nick blocks Ryan’s path, putting his hands on the man’s shoulders.

“Ryan, no! Stop!” 

“They killed him, Nick! And they killed your girlfriend too!” He yells, the tears welling up in his eyes even though he tries not to let it show how much he’s affected. 

“But if you go there, they’re gonna kill you!” Nick yells back, yanking the young man’s shoulder as the man tries to turn around to look at Cole one last time when he sees two of their men are now heading to pick his body up. “He did it so we could fight. So you can survive.” The boy tries to sound reassuring, but his voice comes weakly as he notices more tears coming to the other one’s eyes.

There are three loud thuds on the metal gate and everyone stops dead in their tracks. Tension fills up the air as the group standing near the entrance exchange apprehensive looks, no one quite sure what to expect to come next, not after one of _them_ has also been taken out.

Madison helps Alicia to stand up and Nick rushes to her, asking her, almost in a whisper, if she is okay, to which she nods positively and the boy simply sighs relieved. 

“So I see you have chosen the hard way, Madison Clark.” Proctor John’s voice comes off smugly, but a hint of annoyance and frustration can clearly be heard as well. “And Nick… Here I was, thinking you would have learned from your first mistake.” He chuckled darkly. “Be my guest. _It’s your funeral._ ”

They heard the man’s steps walking away from the gate for a few seconds and then complete silence. Vincent, another resident of the Diamond, went up to the gate and carefully opened up the latch to the lookout window on the gate. He furrowed his brows and turned around.

“They’re… They’re going back to their trucks…” He says in a confused tone, still holding the latch open. Madison scoffs at that and then takes a deep breath.

“No, no they’re not.” She turns to Ryan. “Gather the rest of the militia and go to the armory. Bring everything. Get everyone into positions. Get ready.” She walks up to other residents of the Diamond as Ryan and other members of the militia run up to get ready for the impending battle.

_The militia._

Nick walks up to his mother, who’s talking to a few other people, some of the other residents of the stadium who aren’t usually up for runs and fighting, but who need to be ready for the action that is about to happen. 

“Where’s Troy?” He asks firmly, but quietly.

She doesn’t answer.

Ryan and the rest of the militia all come running before Madison can answer. They hand each and everyone their own guns and a few rounds of bullets to last a while, keeping some more nearby to last.

Everyone starts getting into position, unsure on whether they should fire the first shots or wait and just work on defense. The leader of their militia is the one who makes the call and he isn’t there.

It doesn’t take them long to figure out the next move, however, as their opponents take the initiative and start shooting against the stadium. Madison runs up and positions the rifle she chose for herself in one of the openings of the gate and starts shooting. Nick goes along with her.

“Mom. _Where’s Troy?”_ He asks again, louder, and she finally acknowledges his presence. “He was with you, wasn’t he? Where is he? Why isn’t he here?”

“He’s… He should be here. Maybe he stayed behind.” She says dismissively, not looking at him directly. “Nick, here.” She takes her pistol out of her belt and gives it to him. “Now we fight. You can look for him later.”

“He wouldn’t have.” He declares frustrated as he holds the pistol in his hand, hating every second of it. “If we are gonna fight, we _need_ him, mom.”

Madison sighs, quickly glancing at Nick. They _would_ need him.

“No, we don’t.” Alicia blurts out before Madison can speak and stands between her mother and her brother. They hadn’t seen her walking up to them, but there she was, a harsh expression on her face.

“Yes, we do. Nick’s right, Alicia.” Madison admits reluctantly, looking at her daughter. “He’s the leader of the militia. If anyone knows what to do now, it’s him.” She looks at her son now. “He’s in his… _Area._ Let’s go.” She nods her head to Nick.

Madison puts her gun down and starts walking towards the catacombs. Nick is a few steps behind her, his grip on the pistol now a little tighter and a bit more confident than before. If he had to fight, at least he was going to fight alongside their whole militia. Including, and mainly, the leader. At least, he was going to fight alongside Troy.

“Troy led the horde to the ranch!” They suddenly hear Alicia yell from behind them, which makes both Nick and Madison stop dead in their tracks.

Nick shuts his eyes, feeling the nervousness take over his entire body and his palms immediately get that unpleasant feeling of cold sweat first starting. How could she possibly know? The only ones who knew were him, Troy and, well… Jake. But of course, Jake couldn’t have possibly told her. And she could barely look at Troy. So how?

He still had his eyes closed but he could hear the sound of his mother turning of her heels and striding towards him. She was just inches from his face when he opened his eyes once more; his throat was completely dry, he was just waiting for her to say something, to ask the question he knew she wanted to ask.

“Is this true?” Madison finally asks and, somehow, her words sound louder in Nick’s ears than all the gunshots and screaming around the stadium and near them. 

He parts his lips, struggling as he searches for the right words to say. He doesn’t want to admit the truth, but it’s hard to find a way around things this time, especially when he had no idea how Alicia had even found out about it. His mother sighs heavily, her eyes filled with frustration and a hint of regret.

“It is, isn’t it?” She huffs. 

Nick finally breaks and lets his shoulders slump forward a bit, letting out a heavy breath as he looks down, unable to face her. He turns around a bit and stares at Alicia over his shoulder, searching for a hint of sympathy in her eyes, but all he sees is disappointment and… shock?

“So it _is_ true?” Alicia’s voice cracks a bit when she asks. She takes a few steps forward, a mix of anger, shock and sadness taking over her features as she stares at her brother. “I always thought he did, but you said he didn’t and I believed you…”

Nick furrows his brows, confused, and turns around completely so he can face her as she keeps walking in his direction. 

“I believed you… And I _trusted_ you!” She says a little louder, walking faster now. “I only said this now because I didn’t want you to go after him. Yes, I thought he could’ve done it, but I never thought you would have lied to us about it!”

“Alicia, I…”

“And you said Daniel threatened you!” Nick hears his mother’s voice behind him and quickly turns around to look at her. “You said he was going to torture you! You lied about that too, Nick? To protect Troy? Why?”

“Mom… I didn’t lie about Daniel, I…”

“Jake died because of him, didn’t he?!” Alicia is practically screaming and she’s almost reaching her brother when he turns around. “And you’re protecting him!”

“He didn’t mean to! Jake was an accident!” Nick snaps back, frustration growing inside of his chest now.

“And so what? He _died_ , Nick! Jake died because of _Troy_!” Tears are welling up in Alicia’s eyes and Nick can’t quite tell if they’re there out of sadness, frustration or anger, but she’s barely able to control herself now. “Why did you lie? Jake is dead because of him!” 

“You barely even liked Jake! You never loved him!” Nick yells back at his sister, not only frustrated but also feeling almost helpless and even angry in a way now. He feels cornered.

“It doesn’t matter! Jake is dead!” Alicia raises her fists and slams both of them straight into her brother’s chest, not strongly enough to actually physically hurt him, but enough to discount some of her frustration as the warm tears run down her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter that I didn’t love him…” She keeps pounding on her brother chest as her weeps get louder and her words come out weaker. 

Nick lets his sister discount her anger and frustration on him, as he has no other choice at this point. He had brought this on himself and, to be quite honest, f this was all the punishment he was going to get, they were honestly going easy on him. 

“Why are you protecting him?” Alicia asks weakly between a sob, but gets caught off guard as Nick’s hands immediately wrap around her wrists and stop her. She lifts her face to look at him, but he’s looking down, unable to face her. 

And then she knows why.

“Nick, you…”

He lifts up his gaze to finally meet hers; he can actually see her expression soften as the look he gives her confirms her suspicion, the emotion in her eyes going from angry to sad in a matter of seconds. 

Truth is, she had wondered about this a few times; especially back at the ranch or whenever she would see the two of them cozying up to each other on the bleachers at night, having coffee and talking for hours on end. But her brother had never been one to pine over someone; he was always very direct and usually got what – or rather who – he wanted. Therefore, she just assumed she was reading too much into it. But now...

“No. No, he doesn’t.” Madison says loudly in a harsh tone before Nick can even mutter a word back to his sister. “He was with Luciana!”

Nick lets go of his sister’s wrists and turns to face his mother, unsure of what to say, what to do. He simply looks at her, his eyes filled with agony and weakly shakes his head ‘no’ before opening up his mouth to begin to try to explain to her. This wasn’t, by far, the best moment to talk about this. And yet it was the only moment they had. 

“I should have killed him when I had the chance.” Madison declared sharply before Nick could even say a word and the boys eyes widened.” I planned to once or twice, but I actually thought of giving him a chance and look where it got us.” She scoffed. “Or even better, I should have let Daniel do whatever it was that he wanted to do to him. I should have never let him come with us.”

Madison walks past her children, going back to the front gate.

“You’re not going anywhere.” She turns to tell Nick with a firm expression in her face. “I’m not losing you again. You’re staying and fighting. Troy can rot in there for all I care.”

She positions herself again in the gate and goes back to shooting against Proctor John and his men. Nick stares at her for a few seconds, barely able to process her words or her actions. It’s not like he didn’t know what his mother was capable of, but to see the woman who had helped and protected Troy so many times admit to his face she had actually planned to kill him ‘once or twice’…

The sounds of gunshots are even more frequent now, even louder. Not only the militia, but also all of the other residents of the Diamond are in position at the gates and the watchtower, shooting at their enemies outside. The ones who still stand, that is.

Some people are barking orders at each other, some are running back and forth for more ammunition, some are changing their position, but no one stops shooting – stops fighting – for even a second. Except for Nick and Alicia, both still standing in shock after hearing their mother’s words. 

“Alicia, I have to…” Nick starts saying hesitantly, his voice coming out a bit hoarse, as he is unsure of what his sister’s reaction is going to be.

“You know I don’t want you to.” She replies and his face falls even more, if that is even possible. “But I know can’t stop you. Go.” She pushes his shoulder softly with her left hand as her right one reaches for her pistol on her belt; she’s ready for the fight now.

“Thank you.” Nick mouths to his sister before turning around and running as fast as he can away from the gates, his mother’s pistol in a tight grip in his hands. He isn’t completely comfortable nor completely confident carrying it, but he knows at least it is necessary now. And his only fighting chance in a situation like this one.

-

It felt like hours since Madison had locked him inside that room but, really, it couldn’t have been more than maybe thirty or forty minutes. Still, at this very moment, Troy thinks he can actually feel himself slowly, but surely, losing his mind.

During the first five minutes, he tried to maintain his calm. He looked for a spare key – surely, there would have been one extra key inside, even if this wasn’t one of the rooms he used very frequently so he couldn’t be exactly sure, but he had found a few in the other rooms... But no.

Picking the lock? “Yes, that could work.” He thought to himself. After a few tries and his worryingly rising levels of frustration, however, he gave up on that plan. Emergency exit? No. Secret passage? No. Breaking down the door? Maybe… Yeah, no. 

One by one, Troy quickly ran out on all of his ideas. The minute Madison closed the door and he heard the sound of the key turning in the lock, he told himself he would not panic. As the sound of the first gunshot was heard, he told himself he would not get nervous. As he quickly ran out of options, however, Troy saw himself reverting to that nervous wreck of an eight year old, being locked in the basement by his drunk mother for reasons he could barely remember now.

And then he slowly pushed himself to the corner of the room, back against the wall, hugging his knees tightly. 

The sounds of gunshots coming from outside are muffled now, his mind almost, in a way, trying to numb him to his surroundings and shield him from feeling the desperation he used to feel locked in the basement again. It’s useless, he knows, because he can feel his throat dry and sore, along with the warmth of the tears running down his cheeks. He hated feeling like that weak child again – doubted, neglected and abandoned; left behind by everyone he cared about and tried to protect.

Until he hears his name.

-

Nick is panting as he quickly descends into the catacombs. The sounds of the fight going off behind him are still loud, but become a bit muffled as he enters the corridors to what everyone in the Diamond knew as Troy’s territory. 

He had gone there once or twice when they first found the stadium, to check the place out and help clean it up, but ever since Troy expressed interest and wordlessly claimed the area, he never went again. No one did. Most people didn’t really care about didn’t care that he basically claimed the place, seeing as there was nothing useful there anymore. And Troy was considered to be a valuable member of their community, so who cared, really, if he had a little corner to himself?

Most everyone was clueless to what could be going on in there, of course, but Nick was surely smarter than that. He simply wished to look the other way, of course, as he had done so many times before when it came to Troy – and he could keep telling himself he didn’t really know why, but truth be told, maybe he did.

He runs down the hallway, looking inside the first few doors that were wide open and seeing nothing but pitch black inside. He hopes Troy’s still in there somewhere, since that’s where his mother had told him she had last seen him. 

“Troy!” Nick starts calling for him, hopeful that he might answer and make this search easier and quicker. 

Troy suddenly hears the sound of a familiar voice calling his name from the other side of the door, but it’s still far from where he is. He lifts his head quickly, brows furrowed in confusion, not sure if his mind is now playing tricks on him; adding delusion to his panic attack was, surely, not something he needed at the moment.

“Troy! Are you there!?”

The older boy’s heart starts beating a little faster as he realizes this can’t be a delusion and he realizes it came from a little closer this time. 

Nick has to stop running now, as he sees the next doors down the corridor are closed and he has to open each of them to look inside. He turns the handle on the first one and, luckily, it’s unlocked, but there’s nothing and no one inside. 

He goes on to the next three doors, doing the same, they’re all unlocked, but the rooms are empty and he continues to grow frustrated and worried. Until he reaches a locked door. He tries to turn the handle a few times, calling for Troy.

“Troy!” He pounds heavily on the door. “Troy, are you there?” He presses his ear to the door, trying to listen for any sounds that might come from inside the room. He is finally able to hear something, but can’t quite decipher what it is at first. He closes his eyes, trying to concentrate, until… He hears a loud groan inside coming from inside. Infected. 

A part of him wants to be mad at Troy for his suspicious over what he had been doing at the catacombs all this time being confirmed, especially like this. But an even bigger part of him was now desperate and scared of what, or who, could be inside that room _not_ answering to his call. 

Eyes wide open again, Nick scrambles to try to break the old handle by force, but it won’t budge. He tries to kick down the door, to no avail. He looks down at the pistol on his hand, the one thing he had been so reluctant to even get near these past few months but, now, the only thing that could be standing between that door and saving Troy.

Nick stakes a few steps back and tights his grip around the pistol, taking a deep breath before raising his arm a little and aiming at the lock. He locks his jaw tightly, slowly closing one of his eyes to have a better aim and… He shoots.

The door rapidly bursts open and Nick promptly holds it in place to look inside, worried and fearful of what he might see in the room. After a few seconds of struggle to find a light source, Nick is finally able to see the room in its entirety and, although he did expect that, he can’t help but be somewhat disgusted – and it is saying something, coming from a guy who made a habit of covering himself up in the blood of corpses.

There’s blood everywhere – the floor, the walls, the benches… And the rotting infected hanging from the lockers… The smell of their decaying cadavers. And the piles of body parts, scattered everywhere. He couldn’t help but be a bit disgusted at the smell, of course, but a small part of him was thankful, in a way, that, if he had to keep those _experiments_ up, at least he was doing with people who were already dead. People can only change so much.

More than anything, however, he was thankful that Troy _wasn’t_ inside that room, so that meant he wasn’t with the decaying corpses and that he could still be down there somewhere… Alive.

He quickly went back to opening up the next few doors down the corridor, all of them being shut, but unlocked, like the other ones. 

“Troy!” Nick yelled once more. “Troy, are you there?”

The older boy was quiet now, still sitting by the corner of the room. He was sure that was Nick’s voice on the hallway when he first heard it and, at that moment, his heart tugged with hope that he had come to help him, to… save him. But after the sound of that gunshot so close, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Had Madison told him anything out there? Had she told Nick he had killed Luciana and Nick was angry now? He wouldn’t have believed her… Would he? 

After Nick called the first time, Troy had decided to gather his strength and try his best to answer, so Nick could find him. But now, after hearing that gunshot, when he _knew_ Nick had been so reluctant to even touch a gun… He isn’t so sure of what to do anymore. So even when he hears his name being called once more, he just stays silent, his eyes slightly burning from the crying and his heart pounding heavily.

“Troy!”

Nick calls again, growing even more frustrated and, now, reaching the point of hopelessness. But then, he reaches a locked door again. 

“Troy! Are you in there?!” He pounds on the door a few times before pressing his ear to the wood, trying to listen in.

The older boy looks up at the trembling door, realizing that, alas, this is it. Whatever Nick was going to do to him, it was going to happen now. He had thought he could maybe get away if he kept quiet, but he knew Nick was stubborn and wouldn’t have given up. 

“Troy! If you’re in there, get away from the door, okay?” Nick yells before taking a few steps away from the door just as he had done a few moments ago, however, with a bit more confidence now.

He lifts his arm. He aims. He shoots. 

As the door bursts open, Nick’s breath hitches as he sees Troy sitting in the left corner of the room, cowering, looking at him with big blue eyes full of dread. And he notices Troy’s breath hitches too once he takes a step inside the room – he’s scared… Of him?

Nick takes a few more cautious steps in Troy’s direction, his brows furrowed in a mix of worry and confusion, but his suspicion is confirmed as he notices Troy’s stare grow wider each step he takes. He’s never seen him like this before and he can’t understand what happened for him to be like this, scared of even _him_.

“I didn’t hurt her, Nicky…” Troy vision blurs out and he tries to speak, but his voice comes out shaky. “Luciana, she… She was my friend... I didn’t hurt her, I swear…”

“Hey…” Nick whispers, kneeling down in front of Troy as he realized why he was scared. “I know.” He puts his pistol on the ground before placing his hands on Troy’s shoulder, reassuringly. “I know you didn’t…” The younger boy says and notices Troy’s shoulders immediately slumping as he feels relief washing over his whole body.

Even if Troy is relieved that Nick, indeed, had come to help, his heart is still beating fast from the tension. And so is Nick’s. Both their hearts keep their rapid pace once they realize how extremely close they are. Nick standing between Troy’s legs, his hands on both of his shoulders. Their faces so close they can hear each other’s ragged and heavy breaths even with the world practically falling apart outside of that room.

They both know they need to go, need to leave the catacombs and fight. For some reason, however, they just can’t move. Nick’s hands won’t move off of Troy, almost like it’s stronger than him now. 

Eventually, Nick does manage to move, but only to work his hands up to Troy’s face, watching as the other boy immediately closes his eyes in reaction to his touch, letting out a heavy breath. 

Nick’s fingertips brush against Troy’s cheeks, working their way up to his forehead and then his hair, which the younger boy delicately brushes back, the soft brown curls caught between his fingers. Troy leans into Nick’s touch with his eyes still closed, the rhythm of his breath slowly coming to a calmer pace like the feel of Nick’s touch alone could effectively calm him down. And maybe it could.

He still has his eyes closed, but his lips involuntarily begin to part slightly as he feels Nick’s rough hands slowly letting go from his hair to be placed softly around his neck, one of his thumbs tracing Troy’s jawline. And his breath hitches, once again, as he feels Nick’s forehead suddenly press against his own, their hot breaths getting mixed together in the small space between their lips.

Troy puts both of his hands on top of Nick’s, where they’re around his own neck, like he’s making sure that moment is real and he’s doing what he can to hold on to it. And Troy doesn’t see, but he can feel when Nick finally leans forward and, if he wasn’t so terribly obsessed with science and anatomy, he could swear his heart skipped a beat when he felt their lips finally meet. 

He is careful at first, as if Troy was made out of glass and needs to be handled as delicately as possible. When he feels the older boy’s fingers sliding around the back of his head and tangling into the messy locks of his own hair, however, he allows himself to deepen the kiss and the both of them can actually feel the other one smile a bit between the kiss. 

Nick’s lips are soft and warm and he tastes like… coffee and cigarettes. “ _Of course_ ” He thinks. And even in the middle of the chaos, he almost wants to laugh, because at that moment, he really didn’t hate cigarettes that much… Not if that’s what Nick tasted like.

After what seems like forever, they finally part, but go back to resting their foreheads against one another once more, panting a bit – inevitably. 

“Troy, I-”

Before Nick can really say anything, a loud blast – louder than all of the gunshots that had already become background noise at this point – is heard coming from the outside and the two exchange apprehensive looks. Nick’s lips are still parted, as he was mid-sentence. 

“Whatever it was, it can wait, Nicky.” Troy assures Nick with a smile as they both get up from the ground, Nick remembering to pick up the pistol before they finally leave the room, then making a run for the way out of the catacombs. 

“No, wait!” Troy shouts. “If we’re being attacked, we need more guns. This way! We go out through the South exit. Come on!”

The two of them run to the other end of the hallway, making their way to the last room, also locked shut. Troy takes the key out of his pocket and opens the door, then getting inside and making way for Nick to follow him. The opposite wall to the door was lined up with guns: ten, maybe fifteen rifles, and rows of ammo piled up on the ground. 

“You… You hid this from everyone?” Nick asks, incredulous, as Troy opens one of the lockers on the left wall and takes two duffel bags from inside. 

“No.” He chuckles as he puts one of the duffle bags on the floor and starts filling up the other one with rifles and ammo. “The militia knows this is here. It’s exactly in case of emergency. It’s just…” He looks back at Nick, unsure of how to answer without upsetting him.

“My mom.” Nick adds flatly

“After she convinced Jake to give both keys to Taqa at the ranch, I just…” Troy tries to explain himself.

“No.” Nick cuts him off and walks to his side, picking up the other duffle bag and starting to fill it up with the remainder of the guns and ammunition. “I know. I agree.” He says, seeing Troy simply give a small smile in response. 

“Let’s go.” Troy calls when they’re both finished with the bags already zipped up to make it easier to carry to take them to the other men.

The two of them run outside of the room, making their way towards the South exit of the catacombs as Troy had mentioned – an exit Nick himself had never actually seen, but this _was_ Troy’s territory, so he definitely knew it better than anyone else in that whole stadium. 

They run up the stairs of the so-called South exit of the catacombs and, as Nick predicted when Troy called that the “South exit”, he sees it is indeed the one closer to the second gate, the only other one they had kept in use. They had barred down the West and East entrances with wooden panels, so they could have more control over who got in and who got out – it’s better and easier with two other than four entrances to the stadium and they barely used the South gate anyways.

What Nick hadn’t predicted however, was the sight he before his eyes the moment they step out. The whole stadium was on fire. The crops, their makeshift sheds, the bleachers, all the cars parked all the way inside and far away from the exits… _That was the loud blast they heard._

The North gate – where everyone had been earlier – was wide open now and not a soul was in sight. Not his mother, not his sister, not anyone who lived in the Diamond… But the cars aren’t there either. 

“What happened?” Troy yells.

“I don’t know, I…” Nick replies looking around, trying to find any sign of anyone; of anything. “The Proctors, they were here and…”

“ _The Proctors?_ ” Troy asks, shocked and confused.

The younger boy doesn’t answer, he keeps looking around, frantically searching for any sign of his family; anything that tells him what happened, or where they went, where they are. 

“Nick!” Troy tugs at his shirt from behind, noticing the fire is getting closer and closer to them. “Nick, we have to go!”

Nick looks back at Troy, his expression a mix of worry and confusion, but he follows Troy’s lead, as there is nothing left to do but leave now. He takes Troy’s hand and they walk out of the Diamond, Nick giving it one last look as he sees their home being taken over by flames – once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I would be the one to take almost an eternity to update. In my defense, anyone that knows me even the tiniest bit should be well aware that I'm a complete and utter mess, so it was to be expected. In my defense, once again, I had the chapter ready and then I had to change something because I missed one line (so my resolution didn't fit quite the way I would like it to) and, then, when I made the tiny change, the muse jumped out and I ended up changing the entire chapter. It happens, sometimes haha.
> 
> Fitting my brand™, the chapter title is inspired by a song that reminds me of Troy and Nick and is, even if only a tiny bit, related to the chapter (in this case, a lot, I guess). This chapter was titled after the song Hostage, by Billie Eilish. 
> 
> Sorry for being a mess. And sorry for fucking shit up. And sorry for taking this long just to fuck shit up. Pan, if I made things hard for you, I'm so sorry. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter and don't hate me too much! xx <3


	5. Hope Is the Thing with Feathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pan here, on brand with my extra™ titles and my interjections of angst even into happy moments. I’m not really one for long author’s note but I do want to warn for surgery though it’s not too graphic.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

They try to run. They don’t get far.

They’re trying cars in a nearby parking lot, hoping that maybe one of them still has a working battery and fuel to get them away from the smoke that chokes their lungs. The fire is spreading, eating up the dead grass around the stadium, latching onto every flammable material in its path. It’s all consuming and there’s nothing left in this world that can stop it. That’s why they have to _go_ , before it reaches here and them. Maybe hell is where they’re headed when they day is done but Nick isn’t burning until he’s dead – and he imagines that Troy feels the same way.

The cars provide little luck though but before they can give up on the endeavor entirely, the roar of a motorcycle engine rings in their ears. Troy grabs Nick, dragging him into the large trunk of the last car they were checking. He shuts it with a clunk just as headlights appear in Nick’s vision. Then there’s darkness and silence. The motorcycle is a distant buzz, drowned out by the sound of Troy’s heart in his ears.

Inside the trunk, they’re pressed tightly together. Their knees are drawn up and locked together; every inch of them is touching. It’s almost like they’re cuddling except it _really_ isn’t. Fear for their lives pulses through his veins. Troy’s breath comes out uneven, a sign that he’s just as nervous. Nick briefly wonders what his expression looks like but, in the pitch black, he can’t begin to make it out. It can’t be pleasant for him, not after escaping one small prison and trading it for an even tinier one.

The roar of the motorcycle grows louder before dying. Nick’s breath hitches in his throat. He shuts his eyes and, for a moment, even thinks about praying. He’s never been religious, never had much faith in a God – especially not one cruel enough to let the world end as it had – but _shit_. Right now they need a miracle because it’s game over if they get caught by a Proctor.

Something taps against the car. It has to be the Proctor, looking it over to see if it’s good to use. It feels like an eternity before his footsteps retreats, going to the other cars. Nick lets out a deep breath, inhaling another one that burns his throat and lungs. He can’t even think to hold it back before he’s coughing. Troy slaps a hand over his mouth but it’s too late. The noise is out. They can only hope it was too soft to escape the car or the Proctor is too far away to hear.

Hope is the thing with feathers. It may not fall but it doesn’t always win.

Light floods the trunk as the Proctor pulls open the hatch. Nick sees him only briefly, enough to recognize the gun being pointed in their faces but not the face behind it. He shuts his eyes then, knowing it’s over. They escaped the dam, the diamond, and the explosion but they won’t escape being shot execution style in the back of a trunk.

He doesn’t even realize what’s happening when he’s being jostled and shoved aside until he sees that Troy is springing out of the trunk like an animal possessed, lunging for the Proctor and taking him to the ground. There’s grunts and thuds but two gunshots go off before he can even peer over the edge of the vehicle. Everything happens so fast.

The Proctor is dead. That’s the first thing Nick sees – the hole in his forehead, the blood splattered against the ground. The second thing he sees is Troy, kneeling beside the lifeless body, his arms wrapped around his abdomen.

Nick stumbles out of the car, onto the ground beside him. Troy’s eyes are shut, his lips pressed together in a thing line – the younger man can see the clench of his jaw. He reaches for his arms. Troy presses down as Nick tries to pry them away, shaking his head. His words are strained, forced out through gritted teeth. “If I let go, I bleed out.”

It’s a single sentence yet it steels the air from his lungs.

He _can’t_ lose Troy.

He won’t leave Troy behind, he won’t let him die, but getting out of here is easier said than done. The air is thick with smoke; Nick pulls his shirt up over his nose to try and filter some of it out. He looks around, brown eyes scanning all the cars they’ve already check, purposefully avoiding the looming fire. His gaze lands on the Proctor’s bike. It’d be loud as hell and not ideal but he knows it works. It’s the only thing here that does. It’s their only option.

He hates himself as he peels off the dead man’s leather jacket, tossing it in front of him as he tears away his shirt. The world might’ve ended and death might’ve become meaningless but desecrating the dead is no less shameful. Still, he needs the cloth. They don’t have bandages and if the two of them are going to get out of here on that bike, Troy is going to have to hold onto him. Troy fights him at first but when he realizes what Nick is trying to do, he lets him tie the makeshift bandage around his wound. It doesn’t go all way through which might be better for Troy’s immediate survival but it’s going to be a pain when it comes to actually treating it.

Nick hobbles to his feet; he pulls on the Proctor’s jacket and slides a hand underneath Troy’s shoulder, helping him up. He gets Troy on the bike first and then slides himself on, white-knuckling the handle bars as he waits for arms to wrap around his waist. This would be intimate if it weren’t for the peril and life-threatening injuries.

The engine is loud in his ears, the highway is long before his eyes, the wind is harsh against his exposed skin, and Troy’s arms are tight around him. They ride and the diamond disappears behind the horizon.

 

 

Nick isn’t sure how long and far they ride, isn’t sure when he’d stop if Troy’s arms hadn’t begun to slip. He pulls off in the parking lot of the nearest building which turns out to be a veterinary clinic. He half-drags, half-carries Troy inside, past the faded posters of happy looking dogs, and into the back. The tables aren’t big enough to support him so he shoves those to the side, laying Troy on the floor. He grabs some old bedding and shoves them under him, earning himself a pained moan.

He raids the cabinets, finding rubbing alcohol, bandages, knives, and gloves. While the clinic is mostly picked over and all of the good drugs are gone, there’s enough here for him to treat Troy.

When he returns to Troy’s side, Nick finds he’s fallen unconscious. He immediately checks his pulse but it’s steady though weak. He nods to himself. He has to be quick about this but he can do this. He’s not going to lose him – he refuses to let that happen.

He strips away the makeshift bandage, grimacing at how soaked it is, and cuts Troy’s shirt with a scalpel. He nearly chokes when he sees the bullet hole; Nick closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath. As hard as it is to do, he pours a splash of rubbing alcohol onto the wound before slipping on his gloves. He douses the scalpel and tweezers with the alcohol and then turns back to Troy. It’s just a small incision but his hands shake as he makes it and he nearly jumps out of his skin when a soft groan leaves his patient.

It’s not easy. Cutting into the man you just realized you love and extracting a bullet – that’s thankfully fully intact – shouldn’t be, he supposes, but it would make this nicer. He also found a surgical suture kit during his raiding that he thanks every deity above for as he sews up the incision. He pours a bit more alcohol onto it for good measure before cleaning up his workspace. He hides the supplies in a nearby cabinet then sits back, letting his head bang against the wood as a sigh escapes him.

The events of the day hit him like a ton of bricks. Luciana’s dead. The Stadium has fallen. Madison knows about the herd. Madison would’ve left Troy for dead. Alicia might be dead. Everything weighs on him, like cinderblocks tied around his neck. He tries to focus on the rise and fall of Troy’s chest but his eyes begin to droop and, before he can fight it, he’s out like a light.

 

 

Light pours through the windows when Troy’s eyes crack open. He raises his hand to cover his eyes and then groans as pain shoots up from his stomach. He was shot, that’s right. He mutters a curse under his breath, his eyes sliding shut. Fading back into unconsciousness would be nice but the pain is gnawing away at him, prevent him from even trying. He opens his eyes again and tilts his head to the side, glancing over at Nick.

He looks peaceful when he sleeps. None of the poetic angst or suffering exists in his features when he’s like this – just smooth skin and beautiful features. Nick is beautiful, he thinks, in a different way than the blood and gore he just loves to bury himself up to his elbows in. He’s not frail or innocent or angelic. None of those things interest him. What does interest him is the unique mixture of qualities that makes Nick who he is.

That’s why—

He clears his throat; Nick’s head shoots up, brown eyes opening wide. Panic chases off the peace but he settles somewhat when he realizes it was only Troy. He crawls forward, sitting on his heels beside Troy’s head.

“You okay?” Nick asks, reaching forward and brushing away the hair on his forehead. Troy recognizes the gesture isn’t all fondness – he’s checking for a temperature, to make sure he isn’t feverish with infection. Fortunately, Troy feels relatively fine and Nick smiles softly when he pulls his hand back. He’s not dying. Yet.

“As good as I can be,” he says hoarsely. “Hurting.” A small chuckle follows his admission but it’s not really humorous.

“I can try and find some painkillers?” Nick offers but Troy shakes his head, a movement he regrets a moment later.

“Stay,” he says, reaching for Nick’s hand. There’s a long moment where they’re still like that, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. It’s not a silent conversation. No words or thoughts are being shared in the stale air. It’s just two people, alone in the world, appreciating that there’s at least someone there for them.

Eventually, Nick lays down on the linoleum beside him. His body slots in against Troy’s, his head resting on his shoulder. Their clasped hands never break and their lips don’t open. He can feel Nick’s breath on his skin and knows when it slows down, evening out as Nick falls back into sleep. The blackness doesn’t come for him the same way it comes for Nick but it doesn’t matter. He’s content like this, content to just be with Nick.

They’d come too close to losing each other too many times.

 

 

He doesn’t realize that he’s drifted off again until he’s cracking his eyes open and Nick is leaning against the doorway, illuminated by dimly flickering candles. He perks up when he sees that Troy has awoken, stranding up straight. He attempts to sit up but pain shoots through his abdomen, up through his chest, and he collapses back the few inches he’d managed to lift himself. Nick is there in the blink of an eye, kneeling by his side, resting a hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he greets dryly, instantly receiving a snort from Troy. Nick’s brown eyes are filled with worry as he looks over him; a snarky remark comes to the tip of the older man’s tongue when his fingers gingerly feel his bandages but he holds it back. It’s not worth the energy. But that doesn’t prevent Nick from making one of his own. “Don’t try to kill yourself just yet, okay?”

Nick’s hands linger a moment longer than necessary but Troy doesn’t mind. It’s nice to be this close to him. Nice to not have to worry about what other’s might think or see. Nice to know the feelings, the affection, are returned. It’s not something he’s used to. When Nick clears his throat and sits back on his heels, clasping his hands together in his lap, Troy almost wants to tell him it’s okay. It’s okay to keep touching him, to keep comforting and taking care of him. But the words don’t come and half of them would be pointless anyways. Nick won’t leave him.

He trusts that.

“So,” Nick starts. “While you were sleeping, I went out and looked around for a bit – did some scavenging. I managed to find these candles—” he nods to one on a counter nearby “—and more. Food, clothes, water, and bedding.” The last word causes a grin to spread across the younger man’s face. “Made something up in the other room. It’s not great but it’s better than this.”

“And you plan to get me in there how?” There’s the ghost of grin resting on Troy’s face as he stares up at him, fondness hiding in the depths of his eyes.

Nick rolls his eyes. “Slowly, carefully, and with my help,” he answers. “Do what I say and you won’t reopen anything. Don’t make me perform surgery on you again.”

Troy raises an eyebrow in challenge but he doesn’t rise to the bait. Nick slides an arm under his shoulders, supporting him as he slowly lifts up into a sitting position. It hurts like hell; he has to grit his teeth and breathe deeply through his nose as the movement tugs at his wound. The stitches hold though, even as Nick helps him to his feet and half-carry, half-drags him into one of the other rooms.

The room has been cleared and layers of blankets have been laid out in the center. Two pillows mark the top of the bed. There are counters in this room as well, holding medical supplies, two more candles, dusty water bottles, and cans of food. Nick guides him to the bed and helps him lay back down. It’s just as painful and slow. Troy breathes heavily once he’s down, his eyes shut tight as he tries to will the pain away. He knocks Nick’s hand away when the younger man reaches for him. There’s a moment of hesitation before retreating footsteps fill his ears.

He comes back with the candles from the other room. He blows out both of them and sets them aside, grabbing two cans and one water bottle. Dropping down cross-legged beside Troy, he twists off the cap to the water bottle and brings it to his lips. It’s awkward. Troy nearly chokes on the water but he manages to swallow enough down to satisfy Nick. He sets the bottle aside and grabs the cans.

“What’s around?” he asks as Nick uses a knife to open them. “Anyone?”

Nick shakes his head. “Some empty stores, a couple of houses,” he says. “Just a little pit stop in the middle of nowhere. The type of place you blew past on your way from one city to the next. Didn’t even see a walker while I was out there.”

He sets the now open can and gets to his feet. Blue eyes track his movements as he goes to the counter and grabs a box of plastic utensils. “Living or dead, didn’t see a soul. I looked but… I guess they headed in the other direction.”

“They scattered,” Troy says, “they had to have. Or they’re all dead.”

Nick snorts. “I’d really rather not think about my mother or sister being dead.”

Troy looks at him, examining the tightness of his expression. Despite his words, Nick _has_ been thinking about it. If that face doesn’t say it then what Troy knows about him does. Probably the only time he hasn’t been worried sick about them is when he was worried sick about him. And the worst part is there’s nothing they can do. Nick could leave him, sure, but Troy knows he won’t. They’re alive; Alicia and Madison might not be. That’s all they can focus on for now.

“Here,” Nick says, holding a spoonful of what looks like soup to his lips.

“I’m not an invalid,” Troy complains, though he swallows the soup and notes that it tastes distinctly of beef and metal. Canned soup just can’t compare to the real stuff.

“No, but you do have a hole in your gut,” he says, stirring the soup and producing another spoonful for Troy. “Thank you, though. You saved both of us by doing that.”

Troy _would_ shrug if he weren’t laying down and positive that would cause him a tremendous amount of pain. “You saved me,” he replies. “You rescued me from that room. I would’ve…” He sucks in a deep breath, startled by how it hitches in his throat. “I would’ve burned to death in there.”

_Would anyone else have cared?_

_Would anyone else have even noticed?_

He can’t even consider those questions. They’re enough to drive even the sanest of men mad and Troy is far from the sanest. He looks up at Nick instead, their eyes locking in silent understanding. Nick is the one to break it, glancing down at the can as he scoops up another spoonful.

“Mom knows,” he says softly as he feeds it to Troy. “About the herd and the ranch. Alicia had guessed and she…” He shakes his head. “It’s a blur. It feels like a fever dream. Luciana’s dead. Mom was going to leave you for dead. The stadium is ash by now. My garden is beyond salvageable,” he adds with a hollow laugh. “I feel like… Like we destroy everything we touch.”

It hurts like hell to prop himself up on his elbows but Troy knows he has too. He feels so helpless on his back. Nick’s brow furrows with confusion, especially when Troy reaches for him, wrapping his hand around the one that’s holding the can.

“This wasn’t us,” he tells Nick. “We didn’t blow up the stadium. We didn’t kill Luciana. We didn’t destroy your garden.”

“Wasn’t it though?” Nick asks. “Doesn’t this all go back to the dam, to the proctors? Maybe it’s not all on us but we’re not blameless either.”

Troy watches silently as Nick stirs the soup. His nervous tick, the older man realizes. Fidgeting with his hands to distract from the storm raging inside his head. He wishes he had an answer that would calm him, that would give Nick peace, but he doesn’t. “It’s the world we live in,” is all he can offer. Maybe it’s the truth, maybe it’s not. They don’t continue the conversation.

Troy finishes off half the soup before it’s taken away. Nick say he doesn’t want him to overdo it. He doesn’t complain, not feeling particularly hungry anyways. He falls back onto the bed with a groan as Nick slurps down the rest of the soup and grabs some bandages. He changes Troy’s dressing in silence.

A part of Troy just want wants to go back to sleep but his head aches with the tell-tales signs of oversleeping (he has been sleeping a lot, more than he usually does) and he worries that Nick will venture out again if he does. It’s dangerous out there. Too many enemies, too many risks. He needs Nick to be safe for now. He can’t lose him, not so soon. Not ever.

Fortunately, Nick doesn’t seem interested in leaving. Once he’s put away the things, he blows out one of the candles and settles down beside Troy. They find themselves in the same position as earlier, with Nick curled up at his side and using his body as a pillow. It’s comforting. Nick’s weight is heavy and warm. He doesn’t want to move, not for the rest of the night.

“Earlier,” Nick murmurs into his shoulder, “before we were interrupted, I was saying something. I was…” He can hear the nerves in the younger man’s voice. “I tried to tell you I love you.”

He looks up at Troy’s face when he says that, their eyes meeting. Troy blinks, once then twice. He had known that, he realizes. That’s what that moment _was_. A culmination, a climax – a kiss, a coming together. Of course it was supposed to end with ‘I love you.’ And he doesn’t mind. He used to think romance was ridiculous, worthy of being gagged over. He had always known that it was just a combination of chemicals in your brain and thus never given it much credence. But it means more to him now. He can say it too.

“I love you too,” he replies. His words don’t burn with passion – they’re raw and open, a glimpse into the scars and wounds that make him who he is. “And I can’t lose you.”

Nick nods against him. “I can’t lose you either,” he says. “Earlier, when you were shot, I—The only thing I could think about was how I couldn’t lose you. I didn’t think about chasing after Alicia. I didn’t think about finding where everyone went. All I could think about was getting you to safety. If I lost you Troy, I don’t know what I would do.”

“You’d make it,” he says. “You’re suicide proof, Nicky.”

“I’m not grief proof,” he replies. “But I’m not going to lose you. We’ll be okay, even if it’s just the two of us.”

Troy nods. He bends down as best he can and Nick leans forward, their face’s stopping inches from each other. “I believe you,” Troy says before pressing a kiss to his lips. It’s slow, gentle, and filled with all his hopes and dreams – his desire for a shared future. When they break apart, he adds, “we’ll be together until the end.”

 

 

Nick is on his hands and knees, cheek pressed to the dusty floor as he searches the abandoned general store for _anything_. Food, water, medical supplies – nothing would be unwelcome at this point. Well, there’s one thing that would be unwelcome, and that’s the sound of the bell above the door ringing as it’s opened.

Shooting up from the ground, he grabs his stolen gun and stumbles to his feet. He ducks around the back of the aisle, clutching the weapon to his chest as his heart pounds against his ribcage.

This was the last thing he wanted – competition, enemies, _other people_. Troy is still bedridden and he’s having to scout further and further each day to get them the necessary supplies. It’s a largely empty swath of land, rural in the old world, deserted in this one, and it’s _better_ that way. That’s not even to mention the likelihood of it being a Proctor which… He doesn’t even want to think of it, not when he’s holding a dead Proctor’s gun. But he can’t just stand here like a statue; he’s going to be found and then he’s going to have to act.

Sucking in a deep breath, he closes his eyes, psyching himself up for what he has to do. He’s not an action hero – he’s never been one, never wants to be one – but it’s not the first time he’s held a gun to someone. Won’t be the first time he’s fired one either, if push comes to shove. He can do this.

Ducking out from around the shelf, he raises the gun and points it at the intruder – stopping dead in his tracks when he recognizes who it is.

_Alicia_.

She stares back at him, an assault rifle in her arms and dirt on her cheeks. “…Nick?”

He doesn’t even hesitate, crossing the distance like hell is on his heels and wrapping his arms around her in a suffocating grip. “ _Oh God_ ,” he murmurs into her hair, one hand on her back and the other on her head. He can feel her stiffen and then return the hug, her chin digging into shoulder and one hand gripping his clothes. “‘Licia, I thought… _Fuck_ , I thought—”

He can’t begin to finish the thought but he doesn’t have to. Alicia shushes him and the two of them lapse into silence, hugging each other like the other will disappear if they let go. The guns, the surroundings, the _world_ doesn’t matter.

His sister is _safe_.

It can’t last forever, as much as they wishes it could; they slowly pull back, though their hands remain on each other. He looks her over and she does the same. They’re searching for wounds, answers, and words. Finding them is harder than it seems.

“After you—” She starts but stops, brow furrowing. “When you went to get Troy everything just… There was so much gunfire and then someone pulled out a grenade. I didn’t think I was going to make it.” Nick’s heart leaps into his throat at her admission but the one that follows shatters it. “I didn’t think you made it.”

Swallowing past the sharp shards of his heart, Nick shakes his head. “I did—We did. We went out another exit but everything… It was _all_ burning and there was no one around.”

Alicia nods. “It hit the fuel reserves. Those that didn’t die in the blast scattered instantly,” she tells him. “Mom dragged me out before I even realized what was happening. I would’ve—I’d have gotten you if I had the time.”

“Mom’s alive?”

She blinks at him, seemingly surprised by the concern that drips from his question. “Yeah, she’s… She’s fine. Or she was, last I saw her. We split up while trying to shake some Proctors. She told me to meet her in Austin within a week. I was on my way there.” Alicia’s expression shifts the moment the words leave her mouth, changing from surprise to apprehension. “You could come with me,” she says softly.

His hesitation speaks volumes. “I—”

“Can’t?” she finishes for him, cocking an eyebrow as he nods. “Because of Troy?”

“He got hurt,” he says weakly.

Alicia’s voice is stronger than his, harder than steel. “Mom will kill him if she sees him. He can’t come.”

“Then I can’t.” It’s only three words but each is like a knife to the heart. He had already chosen to stay by Troy’s side and not search for his family; he had accepted that, knowing it was the only option he had. Now he has another, presented in the form of his younger sister and the promise of his mother less than a day’s travel from here. It hadn’t been easy the first time but the second time is like pulling teeth. It sends shivers down his spine, wraps an iron hand around his lungs, and tugs at his soul. But he still doesn’t want to lose Alicia. “You could… You don’t have to go to Austin; you could stay here.”

Alicia shakes her head. “I can’t either.”

“But mom—”

“It’s not about mom,” she says. “I can’t live with Troy. I can’t forgive him like you have.”

“I haven’t—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Whether you forgive him or not, whether you even care – I almost _died_. I had to _sacrifice_ people so we could have enough air and we still didn’t. Travis, Jake, and Ofelia are all dead because of his actions. I could accept Travis but—” She shakes her head again. “I can’t. I know if I saw him, I’d want to kill him.”

Nick looks at her. His heart aches in his chest as he listens to her, as he thinks of the sight of her in the bunker, in the aftermath. Pale skin, blue lips. She had almost _died_. And even then, he had covered for Troy, protected him from the wrath of his family, swearing to take the secret to his grave. The cat’s out of the bag but he can’t regret it. He’s about to lose his sister and all he can think about is how he _can’t lose Troy_.

“Could you ever…?”

She shrugs her shoulders. It’s a better answer than _no_ but there’s not much difference. Even if it’s only temporary, he’s losing her – and gone and dead mean the same thing in this world. But he doesn’t try to explain that, just drags her in for another hug where he fights back stinging tears.

“Be safe, please,” he murmurs, because it’s all he can say.

 

 

The sun washes over Nick’s skin, a welcome warmth against the cool morning air. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to relax with a warm cup of instant coffee. He’s had worse, honestly, and it’s not like the caffeine or the taste are what makes him crave it. It’s the comfort, the familiarity. In a world so uncertain, those two things mean the world.

He brings the styrofoam cup to his lips, his nose wrinkling at the bitter taste but swallowing it without issue. He opens his eyes, watching as the breeze shakes the long grass on the other side of the road.

He’s sitting on the front step of the clinic, not-quite meditating but doing something similar. He’s not thinking about supplies – about where he’s going to have to go today to get them even though he’d rather stay here, in the safety of four walls. He’s not thinking about Austin – about Madison or Alicia, about what his sister might be saying to her. If you love something, set it free; if it comes back to you, it was meant to be. That’s what he has to accept. And he doesn’t think about the future – about the uncertainty that comes when Troy is healed, about where they’ll go or what they might face there. He’ll think about them later but not right now.

Instead, he’ll be startled from his reverie by the sound of the clinic door opening. A bell jingles, dragging his gaze from the grass to the person in the door way. Nick raises an eyebrow at Troy, his lips twisting with a frown.

“You’re still on bed rest,” he says. With a slight grin, he adds, “Doctor’s orders.”

“Doctor?” Troy shoots back, allowing the door to close behind him as he hobbles to the edge of porch. Nick helps him sit. “I think I’d like to see some qualifications.”

Nick rolls his eyes, biting his tongue and swallowing the snarky remark about the fact he’s more qualified than Troy. That really doesn’t mean much knowing either of their histories. It’s just hurtful and Troy’s in enough pain.

The older man leans against him, their shoulders and bodies touching. Nick slides an arm around his waist, careful of where he rests his fingers and the pressure he exerts. Troy is mending well but there’s still a bullet wound in his abdomen. That’s not something to take lightly. Though, he wonders briefly if he’s underestimating Troy’s recovery when the man snatches his coffee and takes a sip, grimacing at the taste and all but spitting it back out.

There are words on the tip of Nick’s tongue. Words about planning and the future. He’s already shared his run in with Alicia; Troy’s response had been muted, a shrug that was followed with a pained groan and vague statement of ‘it’ll be what it’s meant to.’ Whatever that’s supposed to mean. He has thoughts about today and tomorrow and whenever Troy is good enough to hit the road. But he doesn’t need them.

He just needs Troy.

And, when his blue eyes turn to look at Nick, inquisitive and deep, he knows that Troy needs him too.


	6. End Transmission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, Sam here with your final chapter for this amazing collab. I gotta admit, I have had a lot of anxiety over posting this. Everyone else involved in the story is so amazing and talented. It's a bit intimidating. I hope my chapter measures up and that you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

It was oddly cold out for the time of year. Wind sweeping over the dry grassy landscape that Nick was currently making his way across at a steady pace. He was out in the open. A necessary risk at the moment. He’d run out of places to search for food in their little safe haven. Forcing him to trek out to the last few houses he could see within a reasonable walking distance.

The house he was headed for now was small. A single story ranch style home with peeling green paint and fallen down shutters that once must have looked cozy in its day. Now it looked ramshackle and forlorn where it stuck out against the grey skied horizon and yellowing fields of grass. 

He clutched the pistol in his hand tightly as he took careful steps, eyes darting between searching for snakes and looking up for any sign of movement on the horizon. Living and undead alike. He’d made it this far without worry. Only spotting a few dead wandering in a far off field in his travels today. Luckily, they were going the other direction, away from the little blip on the map that was once civilization and away from where Troy still waited mostly immobile at the clinic.

That thought is what keeps him going. He needs to find food. Food, and even more importantly, a can of gas. Troy would be good to travel in another day or two, his wound almost healed enough to not risk re-opening while traveling, though he would still be in pain for a while. But they need gas if they’re going to have any real shot of making it with Troy in his current condition. The motorcycle had a measly eighth of a tank left. Nowhere near enough to make it to the next town according to the one road sign he’d found that was still legible.

That was the thing about Texas. You could drive all day in some directions and not see a single sign of civilization. The state so large you can’t drive across the bulk of it in a single day. This place had been a miracle. But that miracle seemed to have run out.

Two of the houses four front steps to the porch were broken when Nick reached them. One plank having been ripped off by the wind at some point over the years. It stuck out of the ground nearby at an odd angle. The sight of it made Nick crack a small smile as he stepped over the gap and up onto the porch.

The old wood creaked under his weight, but otherwise showed no sign of faltering. So, he pressed on. The front of the house had a large bay window, one shutter still closed over half while the other hung from a single stubborn hinge at an angle as it swayed a bit in the wind.

He peered in, seeing clear through the living room and into the kitchen. The only thing separating the spaces being a long counter and set of hanging cabinets that wrapped around to double as a divider for the space. The design was very 1940’s. Nostalgic. Interior decorated in yellow and a shade of green that Nick was willing to bet was meant to match the paint on the outside of the house originally.

He banged the grip of the pistol on the window pane, wincing at just how loud the resulting bang was. He waited, watching for any signs of movement inside. When none came, and there were no moans or groans of the dead to be heard, he tried the front door. It swung open easily, knob hitting the wall behind it with a soft thud.

Once inside it was clear the occupants had left long ago. Discolored squares on the wall with nails in them showing where several of the framed photos had been taken. It gave Nick an odd twinge. Got him wondering what happened to those people who stood smiling in the remaining images. Did the new world claim them like it did most who ran? Where they lucky enough to survive the start of the end? Are they out there living somewhere else now?

He shook the thought from his mind. There was no use pondering such things. Not when he has a job to do. The kitchens cabinets are already open when he rounds the long counter and moves from carpeted floor to stand on linoleum, but much to his surprise they aren’t all empty.

There was a partial box of chicken flavored raman noodle cups. A couple cans of vegetables. Some spices and dried good for baking he wouldn’t bother with as they would be useless. And most importantly, two full gallons of untouched water. All covered in enough dust to create a whole colony of dust bunnies. 

It was enough to make Nick want to cry from relief. Or thank the god he never really believed in. He did neither. Instead he removed the empty army duffle he’d found days before from his back and set it on the counter so he could stuff the supplies inside.

The rest of the pickings in the house were slim. A few bandages in the medicine cabinet and half a bottle of questionable ibuprofen that would at least help a little with Troy’s pain. Anything was better than nothing if they were going to make a push to get out of the clinic sooner rather than later.

While raiding the bedroom for any clothes that might fit either of them, he spotted it. A shed in the back yard that had been blocked from view on his approach. It was big. Big enough that it had two doors that could be swung open and old tire tracks marked the ground from years of a vehicle approaching and sitting out front of it. Maybe there was a spare can of gas inside? Or something else of use.

The wind was picking up as Nick stepped outside. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of the stolen biker jacket he wore, thankful for the warmth the thick leather provided against the sudden bite of cold. It was clear the weather was taking a turn for the worse. So, this would have to be his last search attempt for the day. He really didn’t want to get caught in a storm.

As the double doors of the shed swung wide, Nick’s breath caught. “Oh...”

~~~~~

Troy was waiting on the clinic porch for Nick to return. He had promised to stay inside. Wait on their makeshift bed and rest. But he was sick of resting. Even with the pain that moving caused, the waiting was getting to him. Sitting still. Being idol for long periods of time. Even injured. It never agreed with him, made an itch form under his skin. Made him restless.

And when the wind started to pick up and those clouds started to roll in and block out the little sun that was coming into the clinics windows? There was no way he was going to just wait inside for Nick to return.

So here he was, hands on the porch railing to keep him steady on his feet as he scanned the ever-darkening horizon for any sign of movement that might be Nick making his return. In all actuality he hadn’t been gone long. Maybe an hour and a half to two hours. But the approaching storm made Troy uneasy, and that messed with his sense of time, even with his watch telling him there was still about another hour before Nick said he should be back. He checked the time once more before looking up to scan the horizon for Nick again.

That’s when he saw it. Headlights from a car coming from far down the road out of town.

Troy’s heart started to hammer in his chest as he dropped down to a crouch and hissed at the strain it put on his stitches. He pressed a palm over the healing bullet wound, praying nothing tore as he moved back and quickly slipped into the clinic to flip the lock on the door and watch the approaching car from behind a thankfully dark colored drape that hung over the veterinary clinics waiting room window.

The car was driving slowly, like the driver was looking for something, or maybe someone. Troy didn’t recognize the car. Not as one belonging to anyone at the stadium. No, This car was old. A classic. Something Troy couldn’t believe was still running in all honestly. A 1957 Chevy Bel Air in a shade of robins egg blue. If he wasn’t suddenly terrified that it might belong to one of the Proctors he might have noticed who was driving as it drew closer.

No, instead all Troy could think was  _“Not now”_ as the car approached. He was unarmed. Nick taking the one pistol they made it away from the stadium with, despite having had two whole bags of guns and ammo at their fingertips before he had been shot. 

He couldn’t see who was driving, sky bursting open at last with the rain that had been threatening to fall for the past hour. It obscured his vision. But not so much so that he couldn’t see the car pulling off the road and into the parking lot beside the clinic. The same one where they had left the stolen motorcycle in.

“Shit.” Troy cursed, moving as quickly as he could from the little waiting area into the exam room he and Nick had been calling home for the last week. It had two doors. The front one connecting to the waiting area, and the back one that going to where Nick had said there was a small set of steps and a sort of loading dock for deliveries.

He looked around, pulse pounding in his ears and breath coming quick as he told himself to stay calm, lock his shit down. There was a scalpel still in its package on one exam table. He grabbed it, ripping the sterile plastic away with his teeth and popping the little plastic guard off with his thumb as he gripped it in the hand that wasn’t still currently pressed over his healing bullet wound. The pressure made the wound throb with pain that radiated through his whole body, but he didn’t dare take the hand away now.

Troy went over his options as he waited. If the driver of the car goes for the front door, he’ll hear it rattle against the lock and he can go out the back. If they go for the back, he’ll hear the click and the rain as it opens and he can go out the front. He could try to fight them, but chances are if it is one of the Proctors they’ll be armed and he doesn’t think he could take another bullet and walk. Especially when Nick Isn't here to save him.

A rattling sound and a bang on the front door made Troy’s breath hitch. He was moving into the back room before the second rattle and bang on the front door came. He heard a shout but ignored it as he pushed himself to move faster. Body refusing to move at full speed despite the week of recovery.

As he threw the back door of the clinic open he cursed under his breath at the slap of cold wind and rain to his face. The door opened to a small concrete set of steps that he moved down quickly. He could steal the persons car. Go look for Nick. Get them out of there.

As Troy ran around the corner toward the parking lot he collided with another body, the both of them moving so fast it sent them stumbling back and falling to the wet ground a few feet apart.

It was Nick.

“Troy? What the hell!” Nick shouted over the roar of hard rain hitting the ground and buildings around them as he pushed himself up and scrambled on his hands and knees to get over to where Troy laid prone with a grimace on his face.

“What the hell... Nick...” Troy managed to say through grit teeth as he felt warm wetness spreading under his palm. He had felt something tear as he fell to the ground. When he had tried to twist to catch himself. It wasn’t as painful as being shot had been, but it still hurt like hell. 

Nick pulled Troy’s hand away from his torso to see the bright red blooming across the white of the t-shirt he wore. He quickly pressed Troy’s hand back to it. “What are you doing out here? Why was the front door locked? Did something happen?” he asked as helped Troy move to sit up as gingerly as possible. They needed to get inside, get out of these wet clothes, and get Troy’s wound re-cleaned and patched before it could get infected.

“Saw a car coming. I thought it was one of Proctors men looking for us. I was going to steal the car and come find you.” Troy said in a rush, a pained groan escaping his lips mid-sentence as Nick helped hoist him up. He grit his teeth against the pain, focusing on the reassuring touch of Nick’s hands as one wrapped around his waist and the other pressed over his own to help keep the presser as Nick hauled him to standing. “We gotta go, they’ll find us out-”

Nick couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he helped Troy up, cutting him off mid ramble. “You’re an idiot. That was me you saw. I was driving the car.” he huffed, already turning the both of them to go back around the corner and head for the clinics unlocked back door. “I found it while I was out looking for supplies. And -you- were supposed to be resting while I was gone.”

“Like hell I’m going to just lay down and take a nap when you’re out here alone.” Troy grunts as he wrapped his free arm around Nick’s shoulders and held tight. They were both drenched now, cold seeping in and making everything feel all the more miserable along with the hot pain currently piercing his chest.

Heaving a sigh, Nick held back the urge to chastise Troy further. He knew how it felt to be on the inside waiting for Troy to return from a supply run, but Troy was cut out for that kind of thing, a real survivor. Nick worried, but not as much as he would over someone else in that situation. So, he could imagine the kind of anxiety Troy has to be feeling to be the one waiting for once. Especially where Nick had spent the better part of the last year behind walls, digging in the dirt day after day instead of keeping his skills sharp.

“I’m sorry I worried you.” Nick said softly once they were safely inside and Troy’s wet shirt and bloody bandage was off to reveal two popped stitches out of the five. The damage wasn’t bad, and the wound its self hadn’t actually re-opened. He could just pull the two damaged stitches and put a fresh bandage over the wound once it’s been cleaned.

“I’m sorry I almost stabbed you with a scalpel.” Troy countered, giving a little smirk before wincing as Nick removed the first of the two stitches.  

Nick raised an eyebrow at the comment, but said nothing as he snipped the second stitch and pulled it free from Troy’s body as carefully as possible. Once it was out he pressed an alcohol soaked piece of gauze to the wound and held it there a moment, giving Troy an apologetic look as he hissed in pain from both the pressure and the sting of the alcohol.

“So,” Troy began, voice a bit strained as he watched Nick grab a fresh piece of gauze bandage and the roll of medical tape from where he’d stored them after his last bandage change. “supply run looks like it went well.”

“It did, actually, yeah.” Nick said as he came back to sit on the floor beside Troy. The candle light wasn’t nearly bright enough for his liking, but he made due as he wiped at the last bit of blood still weeping from Troy’s popped stitches before starting to bandage him back up. “The car has a full tank of gas. And there was some food and water in the house. Enough to tide us over until we can get out of here and find a real town to scavenge.”

“Yeah? Great. What’s on the menu tonight?” The older of the two asked, trying to lighten the mood and distract himself as Nick finished up. He was almost starting to wish he’d stayed in bed like Nick had told him to. Almost.

“What sounds better, cup-o-noodle or canned green beans?” Nick asked with a little smirk as he helped Troy lay back on their little makeshift bed to wait and rest a bit.

“Neither sounds good, but I’ll eat just about anything at this point.” Troy said with bit of a smile of his own. 

Nick huffed a laugh as he moved to stand. “I left everything in the car. Be back in a flash.” He said before heading back out into the downpour.

The rain was cold as it hit Nick once again, sending a shiver throughout his whole body as it tried to get warm. He spotted the scalpel Troy had dropped when they collided on his way to the car, a smile tugging at his lips as his eyes caught the glint of the green plastic handle, stark against the dark gray concrete of the parking lot. He kicked it aside before retrieving the duffle bag from the car.

Once back inside Nick gave Troy some of the ibuprofen he found and set up the little camp stove he’d scavenged a few days earlier to boil some water as quickly as possible. Opting to make them each a cup of noodles and some of that god awful instant coffee they had. His shivering was getting worse. And he could see Troy was shivering as well from the corner of his eye. They both needed to get in dry clothes and get warm as soon as possible.

Neither said anything as Nick got the both dry and changed. The both of them just keeping their eyes locked in a silent agreement as Nick helped Troy towel off and get into a dry button up shirt and pair of loose sweat pants before changing clothes himself. It wasn’t the time to do or think about anything beyond getting comfortable and warm.

Once they were dry and done changing the water was just hot enough. Nick fixing them each a drink and a cup of noodled before helping Troy sit up with his back to the wall before joining him. A blanket pulled over both of their laps as they got settled side by side with their hot meal.

“I was thinking.” Nick began, stirring the noodles in their broth with his plastic fork. 

“Careful, I hear that’s dangerous.“ Troy cut in, tone a bit teasing as he held the hot cup between his hands, feeling the warmth seep in to his chilled fingers, letting himself enjoy it a moment.

“Shut up.” Nick huffed, bumping Troy’s arm with his own lightly before taking a sip of the broth from his cup. “Like I was saying. I was thinking, Alicia probably found mom by now. Austin isn’t that far south from here. We should leave in the morning. You know, in case they come looking for us.” He feels the weight of the words as he says them. The weight of the words he wasn’t saying. The way the air felt thicker simply from him speaking. 

Madison wants Troy dead. Will undoubtedly want Nick back. And won’t let her sons love for the other man dissuade her from her decisions. She’s always found him before when he’s been lost. This time he needs to run further than he ever has before. He knows with Troy by his side he can do it.

When Troy doesn’t say anything, Nick looks up from his meal to look at him, studies the expression on the older mans face in the glow of the candle light. It’s a look for determination, he realizes after a beat. ”What do you think?”

Troy sighs, a hand finally moving to stir the contents of his dinner. “I’m going to miss the motorcycle.” He jokes, tone wistful as he meets Nick’s candle light illuminated gaze at last.

Nick snorts a laugh at the comment. “Seriously? The car I found is so much cooler than that hunk of junk. Besides, the whole ride you were clinging to me for dear life while trying not to bleed out. That doesn’t exactly equal out to a nice romantic evening ride.” He says with a shake of his head before finally giving in to his hunger and digging in to the cup of noodles.

“Oh, I don’t know, Nicky. If you look past the blinding pain and nearly bleeding to death, it was pretty nice being pressed together like that.” Troy said with a charming smile, watching Nick nearly choke on his noodles before swallowing them and giving Troy a look like he’d lost his mind.

“If you’re really going to miss it that much, we’ll get you another one later.” Nick says, tone flat. “But for now, we’re sticking with the Chevy. Now eat your damn dinner. I can feel you shivering next to me.” He couldn’t help but chide. They were both still shivering a bit. Not as strongly as they had before they had gotten dried off, but it was still obvious they were both cold.

Troy sighed and mumbled something about being fine before the both of them silently slurped down their meal of noodles, broth, and bitter coffee. It did the trick, warming them up enough that neither was really cold anymore once the candles were blown out and they settled in under the blankets together to try and get some rest despite the sounds of the storm raging outside. Nick lying curled against Troy’s side yet again with his head on the only slightly taller mans shoulder.

The two whispered ideas for the future as they fell asleep. Ways they could go and supplies they would look for in area’s Troy and the other militia scouts hand planned out but not explored yet.

~~~~~

The sky was still grey as they readied to leave the next morning. Troy was feeling well enough to move around on his own again, popped stitches be damned. And he held the door for Nick as he carried the duffle stuffed full of their meager supplies out to the waiting car.

“I think that’s everything.” Nick said with one last glance behind him as he adjusted the strap of the duffle on his shoulder.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Troy asked, looking past Nick into the dark of the room. There was a folded piece of paper set on the receptionist desk. It hadn’t been there before. Nick having placed it there sometime while he was taking one last look for supplies.

“It’s for Alicia. For if her and mom come looking for us.” Nick explained as he stepped past Troy and made his way down the steps. He’d found a note pad with a few blank pages left. Troy always liked to tease him, call him a poet and say he was full of angst. Maybe he was. Because he couldn’t resist the urge to scribble down his thoughts and leave them for his sister. Even if she never finds them at least he got them out of his head in some way.

Troy stared at the folded paper a moment longer before following Nick, the door of the veterinary clinic swinging closed behind him for the last time with a soft click.

~~~~~

They made it all the way up to route 20 not far from the Louisiana border when the car suddenly sputtered and hissed to a stop. White steam pouring from under the front of the hood.

“It’s the radiator.” Troy grumbled, already opening his door and making to step out and look at the engine. The movement pulled at his remaining stitches sharply, but he ignored it. They were still ten miles from the next town and it was already getting dusky out.

“I can see that. Don’t get out, I’ve got this.” Nick said, trying to reach for Troy’s arm and stop him from getting up. He wasn’t fast enough though, Troy was already half way out of the car before he could lean across the bench seat to try and grab him.

“Nice try, but you don’t know shit about fixing cars, Nicky. Especially old cars. This isn’t like anything we had at the Diamond.” Troy explained as he came around to wave a hand through the hot steam, trying to clear some of it away before reaching to try and pop the hood.

“I know enough to know the release for the hood is in here, dumbass.” Nick called from behind the wheel as he watched Troy try in vain to locate the release under the front edge of the hood. He smiled at Troy as hit the release on the dash that let the hood pop up to be opened.

“You think you’re real cute, don’t you.” Troy said under his breath as he lifted the hood and set up the little metal bar to hold it up.

“What was that?” Nick asked, finally exiting the car and coming around to stand beside Troy where he was peering into the overheated engine at the very obvious crack in the radiator.

“I said the radiator is cracked.” Troy said, loud and a tad mocking as he tried to search for a cause of the crack. The car was old, yes, but it had clearly been well loved and cared for before the end of the old world. But the two odd years of neglect appeared to have been enough to take their toll in any case.

“You hear that?” Nick asked a beat later, taking Troy’s attention away from the hiss of steam. He was facing the direction they’d just come from, eyes scanning down to the line of trees that blocked their view of the road past the bend maybe half a mile down.

There was the hum and rumble of engines in the distance. Big ones. Diesel maybe.

Troy grabbed Nick by his jacket and started to pull him around the car. “Grab the bag, we gotta move.” he said, pushing Nick towards the trunk as he reached in through the open window to grab the pistol from where it had been set on the seat between them on the long drive.

Nick did as told, quickly grabbing their bag of supplies from the trunk before following Troy down into the ditch to duck behind some bushes and wait.

Troy held the pistol in his right hand, his left gripping Nick’s hand tightly as he held his breath. They heard the vehicles drawing closer. The both of them scanning what they could see of the road above through the bushes.

The sound slowed, tires crunching on gravel that had been blown up onto the concrete over time before the first vehicle rolled into view.

They knew that vehicle.

Nick was pulling Troy out of their hiding place before Troy could even bat an eye or process what he was seeing.

“HEY! AL! ALTHEA!” Nick yelled, moving as quickly as possible and waving his free hand as he yanked Troy behind him up the small embankment.

The brunette stopped the massive swat van before rolling down the driver side window and leaned out with a grin. “Nick. Troy. You stadium folk are all over the place these days.” She called out, grin growing at the look of shock on Nick and Troy’s faces as they spotted the other vehicles trailing behind hers. There were four of them in total. All belonging to people from the Stadium.

“No way...” Nick breathed as he came to a stop on the side of the road, Troy at his side, his hand still holding Nick’s tightly where he’d grabbed it before and refused to let go. “How many survivors?” He asked, taking in the sight of the larger camper, two armored militia trucks, and a minivan. All looking to be full of people.

“Fifteen. Well, seventeen now that we’ve found the two you. ” Al said, looking back at the little caravan they’d formed. “I’m leading the way east. Someplace safe, supposedly. Lots of new people to get stories from. You know how much I like new people.”

Nick and Troy traded glances, slow smiles spreading on both of their faces before Troy spoke for the both of them. “Got room for two more in there, Al? Our ride kicked the bucket on us.”

“For two of my favorite men? Always. Hop in the back.” She said, hand slapping the door of the van for emphasis. “Get a move on, we need to make it to the next rest area before dark.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Troy said, giving a little salute once he’d tucked the pistol safely into his pocket.

They noted three new faces in Al’s van when they opened the doors and went to climb inside. A couple sitting together in the back, cozied up together in the corner behind the passenger seat with a blanket wrapped around the both of them. She was blonde, her hair tied back in a messy pony tail and a kind smile on her face as she watched Nick and Troy sit down just as close as she was with her other half. He was wearing a Stetson, a bit of scruff on his face with some grey mixing into the black of his hair. He gave the newcomers a smile and nod as they joined them.

The third man was riding shotgun, his body turned in the seat to face the newcomers. He was older. Black, with a bit of scruff and a buzzed short head of hair. He gave them a tired smile as they got settled into place on the bench seat on the drivers side of the van.

“So, Al, who are your friends.” Troy asked loudly once the van was moving again.

“I’m June, this is John.” The blonde said, giving a little wave. The man, John, leaned away from her, reaching out a hand to offer them both a little gold wrapped hard candy.

“Nice to meet you folks.” He said, Texas accent obvious in the few words. “Candy?”

They both accepted the little offering, Troy with a smile and Nick with a look of confusion. Troy popped his into his mouth right away, Nick pocketing his for later.

“Names Morgan. Nice to meet you both.” The man riding shotgun said, his accent also southern though a little harder to place.

“I’m Nick, this is Troy.” Nick said, finally letting himself relax a little. Al was good at reading people. If she trusted these three enough to ride with her then he could too. Especially if one of them is the reason they’re headed to this ‘someplace safe’ that Al was taking their friends from the Diamond to. “So, where are we headed?”

Morgan smiled at the question, looking down at his hands where the held his walking stick before he looked up at the two and began to tell his tale. 

They listen, and Nick thinks, maybe this is it. Maybe, just maybe, if the two of them go along. Mind their own business. Just let themselves have a life together. Maybe they’ll be okay. Maybe in this new place they’re headed they won’t destroy everything they touch. Looking in Troy’s eyes after Nick’s come to that conclusion, it’s clear Troy must be thinking something along the same lines. A hint of a real smile gracing his lips.

Troy squeezed Nick’s hand and bumps their foreheads together lightly before looking back to Morgan. All of his focus on learning about this place where a number of communities have come together. Survived. Built a working system of trade and government. Maybe they could join one. Maybe they could claim a place nearby with thier people that made it out of the stadium and start another community of their own. Anything was possible now. Anything was possible as long as he was with Nick.

~~~~~The End~~~~~

 ****** Bonus Material ****** Nick’s letter to Alicia

Alicia   
I don’t know if you’ll find this letter, but I’m writing it anyway. We’re headed out today. I won’t say where to because I honestly don’t know myself.   
If mom is with you, please, don’t try to find us. I’ve made my choice, just as you both have made yours.   
I hope that you find some place new. Some place safe. A place you can thrive. You deserve that. To be safe and happy. To find some peace.   
I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again. I don’t know what the future holds. Maybe we’ll make it, Troy and I. Maybe we won’t. But either way we’re going to be together until the end and that’s all either of us really wants. All either of us really needs.   
I’m sorry for the way things ended. I’m sorry you suffered for my choices. And they were mine. All of them. This isn’t all on Troy, must as you all blame him this is on me as well so just listen. I need you to understand this. I fired the bullet that started everything. I killed Jeremiah and sent Troy into the downward spiral that ended the ranch. And even before that I was the one who ran off into the desert and caused the events that led to you, mom and Travis ending up at the depot to be captured by Troy’s men.   
It was all me.   
I accepted this as my truth long ago, and I hope you can too.   
Please, know that I’m okay, and know that I love you, little sister.   
Stay safe,   
Nick

******

_The camera shakes a little as it’s set down to face_ _an_ _exhausted looking woman with messy blonde hair. She's sitting on the ground, her back to a massive tire. There’s a smudge of blood on her right cheek from a small cut and her clothes look like they’re covered in soot in the early morning light. The angle of it gives her an otherworldly glow almost. Though that could also just be a smudge on the lens._

_“So, you’re Laura?” A voice off camera says, tone a little amused._

_The blonde huffs a soft laugh at that, a smile turning one corner of her mouth. “June. My name is really June... I never told John my real name before... He named me_ _Laura_ _when I wouldn’t talk to him at first...“_

_A soft laugh sounds from behind the camera in turn. “Alright then, June, want to tell me how you ended up like this?”_

_June looks a bit uneasy, eyes darting away from the woman behind the camera to look far to her right a moment before she cleared her throat and looked directly into the camera lens. “I’ll start from the beginning... I lost my daughter. She was sick, so were others at our shelter. I went to go try and get medicine, and when I came_ _back_ _she was...”_ _She pauses, wipes her nose on her sleeve_ _and smudging a bit of soot on her face_ _before speaking again. “Anyway, that’s how I met John. I was running after_ _I lost her_ _. I got hurt_ _,_ _fell in the river,_ _and he saved me... I didn’t want to, but_ _the longer we were_ _together_ _..._ _I feel in love with him. I’m sure he already told you all of that, though...” She fidgets with the torn sleeve of her denim jacket as she speaks. The tear gets a little bigger and she pauses, stares at it a moment while searching for the words to say next._

_“He did tell me.” There_ _’_ _s a sound of fingers tapping plastic, the camera shakes a bit._ _”He_ _also said you left him. Took one of his pistols and ran.” the voice behind the camera noted. There was_ _no_ _judgement in the words. Just a bit of curiosity._

_June nodded, looking up from her hands to the woman behind the camera again. “I was afraid of losing him. Of the pain I’d feel_ _when, if, I did_ _. So, I l_ _eft_ _. I thought it would be better that way. That’s when they found me...” She trailed off, eyes going unfocused as if she was reliving the memories in her mind._

_The woman behind the camera doesn’t speak, letting June take a moment to compose herself and continue_ _the story_ _on her own._

_“Their leader had needed a nurse. He never fully recovered from having a tumor removed from his spine. They said his old nurse ran away and they were going to get her back on their way east. When they found out I was a trained ICU nurse they made_ _me_ _take her place. I was with them for weeks before I_ _saw my chance and_ _managed to get away last night.” There’s a sound of two men’s laughter somewhere off camera and she looks towards it, expression going soft a moment before she looks back again, shifting a little where she sits on the cold ground._

_“What happened last night?” The woman behind the camera asks. The camera moves, shakes a little before zooming in on June’s face a bit._

_“The Proctors met up with another group that called themselves the Vultures. They made a deal with them to work together. The Vultures would help get the girl back for Proctor John, and in exchange they got to keep whatever supplies were left in the stadium once the occupants were dead and the girl was secured.” June explained, eyes looking a bit glassy_ _as tears welled up in them suddenly_ _._

_“I tried to talk them out of killing everyone, but Proctors mind was made up_ _._ _H_ _e was going to offer to let the_ _people the girl was with_ _live if they gave her up, but it was a lie. His men had orders to kill everyone once_ _they had the girl,_ _no matter_ _if they took the deal or not_ _...” She shook her head suddenly, wiping her eyes on her sleeves and smudging moor soot on her face._

_“Do you need a minute?” The woman behind the camera asked._

_“No, no, I’m fine. Sorry.” June said, offering a watery smile as a few tears fell. “I was there when it happened. In a camper. When the shooting_ _started_ _I managed to duck out and hide. I thought I could wait in the field beside the stadium until it was over. But then there was an explosion. The whole place went up in flames. It was total chaos. When the fire got_ _close_ _I_ _couldn’t take anymore and I_ _just ran and ran until you found me on the side of the road.”_

_“And the stadium? Do you know if anyone made it?” The woman off camera asked,_ _real_ _concern clear in her voice._

_“I think so. The_ _people living there_ _took out a lot of the Proctors and_ _the_ _Vultures before the fire started. I think I saw maybe a dozen vehicles get away while I was running. Maybe more.” June said, wiping her eyes one last time before smiling again. It was a tired smile, but a grateful one. “Thank you for stopping when you saw me. Thank you for_ _helping John find me_ _.”_

_“_ _Talkin_ _’ about me?” A man with a southern accent says from off camera to the right. “You ladies about finished? Morgan and I got breakfast all set. It’s_ _nothin_ _’ fancy, but it’ll do.”_

_“Yeah, we’re finished for now.” The woman behind the camera says before the image shakes a bit and the tape cuts out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to note, the name of the chapter is for the song [End Transmission by AFI](https://youtu.be/4oqDujfyEMk)
> 
> For those of you who are interested, we started a discord chat for the fandom. Anyone who's a fan of our favorite children of violence are welcome to join, just click the link [Trick Fans Discord](https://discord.gg/sTFJXXd)
> 
> On behalf of everyone involved, I want to sincerely thank you all for following us on this journey. It's been a pleasure and who knows, maybe we'll do more collaborative stories in the future ;)  
> We'll just have to wait and see.


End file.
